Ustalav is currently suffering through the worst storm it has seen in years. The rain pours torrentially, the night is pitch black, and the twisting road is empty.
Almost.
A flash of lightning illuminates the form of a small two-wheeled carriage, which rolls nervously down the muddy road. Within the carriage sit two figures, an elderly looking gentleman – clearly a scholar by the books he carries and the spectacles which sit on the brim of his nose – and the second is a dainty young woman, whose eyes sparkle with light, and whose facial features are slightly similar to the man she sits across from.
The scholar speaks up first, his voice authoritative but kind. “Have no fear Kendra, we’re almost there.”
“I’m not afraid. It’s just a storm, the rain can’t hurt us!” comes the reply: a small, dainty voice to match the small, dainty frame.
“You would be wise to heed the signs of the weather, my dear. When the gods send dark omens, it is said that dark things walk in the night!”
“Oh come on father, you don’t actually believe that! I know you’re simply trying to give me the spooks. ‘Observation over superstition’, isn’t that what you always say?”
“Mmmm. I do say that frequently, don’t I. But there are other things that-” He says, his thought left unfinished as the carriage draws to a halt, and the driver indicates that they have reached their destination – a warm and pleasant inn, whose sign reads ‘The Open Book’.
Keen to exit the storm, the professor and his daughter shuffle into the inn. Their bags are quickly taken, as the scholar is expected here tonight, and the travelers make their way into the back room of the inn. Here, a roaring fire, leather chairs, and three additional figures wait for them. There appears to be an argument in process as the scholar and his daughter arrive.
Well, I think I speak for all of us when I say you are clearly not the man your father was! He would never have used such a tone with me. Lodge or no lodge.” This voice, angry and offended, comes from a stern elderly lady with pursed lips, her hair in a bob, and icy blue eyes, which glare at the apparent offending party; a slight and spry man with dirty spectacles, somewhat disheveled himself.
“What you think of my tone is irrelevant, it’s the outcomes that matter, and my logic cannot be denied especially when my contacts within the clan clearly report that-”
Both voices fall silent as it is noticed that there are two other people present. The elderly lady speaks first, her tone quite clearly brash and scolding.
“You’re late, Petros. Why are you always late? It’s terribly disrespectful. You have missed much of the discussion already.”
“My apologies to all three of you,” the scholar states, giving a slight bow. “There was some…’research’ that could not wait.”
“Yes, well, the rest of us have commitments as well. This must be your daughter, then. Are you not going to introduce her, Professor?”
The Professor opens his mouth to speak, but not a word comes out before the young lady speaks for him.
“If it pleases you, m’lady, and sirs, my name is Kendra and I am quite capable of introducing myself. I’m afraid I don’t have the pleasure of your names.”
“And you will not, young lady.” Speaks the final voice, belonging to a tall, stocky aristocratic man, who swirls his wine disinterestedly. “Professor, send this child to bed. We have matters to discuss.”
“My good lord, I was hoping that this evening may be an opportunity to introduce-”
He is interrupted by the aristocrat before he can finish his sentence. “Out of the question. Not tonight, not any other night. These are weighty matters, not games for infants.”
The Professor once again opens his mouth, but is once again stopped by his daughter before he can speak.
“Save your breath father. I can clearly see when I am not wanted. Good night sirs, madam. I hope your ‘weighty matters’ do not require the application of manners to solve, or else we should all be in for a dark day indeed.”
She kisses her father on the cheek and leaves, her huffing sighs indicating her anger. Beside her chair, her wine sits undrunk.
After a long silence, it is once again the elderly lady that speaks up first, “Good heavens, what nonsense. Now, do sit down Petros, and tell us all of your findings.”
“Quite.” adds the disheveled man. “Leave no stone unturned, and no tree unbranched. I am all eyes and ears as well.”
At the request, the professor does indeed sit down. He sets his wine on a nearby stand, drawing a stack of papers from his case. He talks for quite a long time, and his topics seem to reach all possible fields of study; making reference to the papers, showing charts, calculations, maps (of both the land, sea, and star variety), inventories of foreign places, itineraries of people both alive and long dead, notes from a diary, more calculations and then extrapolations with reference to calendars (both current and past), and finally some hand-written scrawls from the charred remains of an old spell book.
He concludes his excessively long discourse by flailing his hands in a dramatic fashion to indicate a point of great importance to him, knocking over both his and the other full goblets of wine nearby, sending them splashing all over the oak floor and across the long evening dress of the elderly woman.
“Oh for goodness sake man, be careful,” She says, her voice more disgusted than angry.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Terribly sorry! My apologies, I will buy you a new dress, I promise. Here, I actually have some coins with me tonight,” says the Professor, fumbling for his coin pouch.
The elderly woman interrupts him, brushing herself off and sitting back down in her seat, most of the wine already stained into the fabric of her clothing. “Put your money away, you old nincompoop. At least you missed the maps, for what it’s worth.”
“For what it’s worth?” speaks the Professor, his tone almost offended. “What do you mean? You see the pattern! Surely you realize we must act now, before it’s too late!”
“Now Petros, let’s be calm over this.”
“Let’s be frank instead,” says the aristocrat, standing from his seat. “What you have here is hogwash, professor. Hogwash and hokum. All you’ve shown us is conjecture, unconnected occurrence and fancy. The plural of anecdote is not theorem, and this sir – this is not evidence.”
His voice rises in anger as he speaks. “I have the denizens of the night practically running my city – my city! – and you want me to divert resources to this... this treasure hunt. Pah!” He finishes with a dismissive gesture, burying himself into his wine.
“But the math… the equations demonstrate the proof. They show the connections. Admittedly, there are a few holes yes, but they have been very careful to cover their tracks. This is all that was left. Estov, you followed the numbers, surely you must agree.”
The disheveled man sits in his chair, hand on his chin and eyes closed in contemplation, giving the Professor nothing but a short “Hmmm…”
“Is that a yes?”
“No, it was a ‘hmmm’,” speaks the man, opening his eyes to address the Professor. “A ‘hmmm’ is very different than a ‘yes’. Not quite the opposite, but certainly not equal. I find myself agreeing with his Lordship. Not on all the various…'colorful’ terms with which he describes your lecture, but in your prescribed course of action. A scatter-shot approach is a waste of resources, and will not provide results. Besides, I have other interests I am pursuing at present. Still, I enjoyed the discourse, I’ll give you that.”
“Then I’ve wasted my time. None of you will listen,” The Professor says angrily, a slight hint of dejection in his voice.
“Now, now, professor; that’s not entirely true. There is still me.”
“But… the wine… your dress…”
“Oh stuff the wine, you nonce!” the elderly woman nearly shouts. “If what you say is true, the risks of not acting… They are too great…”
“So you will help?” There is a sudden hopefulness to the Professor’s words as he says this, his voice perking up nearly as much as his stooped form does.
“I must confess…I’m not sure. Despite everything you’ve shown, there is little direct evidence. Plus, the third ingredient you mention, a tortured spirit that still retains its goodness…it’s unlike anything we’ve ever heard of. Perhaps if you had more evidence, a lead, perhaps a trail to follow…then I could help.”
The Professor pauses for a moment, thinking, before speaking up. “I could do that. I still have some clues to pursue. Ravengro, there is some connection to Ravengro, I’m sure of it.”
The aristocrat nearly chokes on his wine at this point, chuckling heartily. “That dead-end of a village. Ha! Not likely. That is a village of fools and liars.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll prove it to all of you!” the Professor exclaims, a resolute determination in his voice despite the mockery flung at him.
“I’ll drink to that! says the disheveled man, raising his tankard in a mocking gesture. “To a futile quest driven by nobility of thought and stubbornness of ideas!”
The elderly woman sits quietly and purses her lips as the aristocrat turns around to look out a window, shaking his head. The Professor quickly gathers up his notes and files them away, turning back towards the group.
“Ravengro. Ravengro it is. I’ll call another meeting when I have more proof. I will make as much haste as I possibly can. Until next time, friends. Ab Sek, Abet Sahu.”
ℜ𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔬 | 5𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔣 ℜ𝔬𝔳𝔞, 4711 | 1530
The flickering light of a candle illuminates the oaken desk that is currently in use. At it, a dainty woman sits with quill in hand, her eyes red and puffy, as she scrawls out a letter. She’d found herself writing far too many of these letters recently, trying to reach out to her father’s old friends and acquaintances. She’d have to assume that the locations and methods of delivery left in the old man’s notes would lead the envelopes to their destinations. Some of them were most peculiar, but he’d left her the funds and methods of doing it, at least.
He really did seem to think of everything.
These letters were different, however. These were being written on the behest of Councilman Vashin, who had most certainly been left his own set of instructions, she’d wager. The names she had before her (which also had their own methods for delivery) all shared one thing, and in fact, her own name also shared this. Petros had mentioned all of them, by name, in his will. It was this list of people that the Councilman had personally delivered, despite his general distrust of outsiders being involved in Ravengro affairs.
It wasn’t surprising for her to be named of course, but the rest of these people she hadn’t even heard of. Her father would usually spin wild tales of his adventures, but it seemed like these names had never come up. Or if they had, it was astoundingly infrequent.
She finished the last one, dipping her quill back into the inkwell. They were ready to be delivered, and she dared not read over them again, for fear of sending herself into another teary fit. Even thinking about the news these letters delivered was starting to make her eyes well up.
Within the day, they’d all been sent out via their respective means. She'd have to hope that the detailed instructions the Councilman had been left with would be up to date.
Dear Friend,
I hope this letter finds you well.
It is with great regret that must advise you of the passing of my father, Professor Petros Lorrimor. I have been tasked by Councilman Vashian Hearthmount, the executor of my father’s will, to summon you as you have been named in that document.
This came as a great surprise to me, never having met you, however if my father held you in high esteem enough to be a beneficiary of his estate, then I can only assume you must be of good character. Consequently I hearby extend an invitation for you to stay at my home in Ravengro while you attend the funeral and subsequent reading of the will. It is the least that I can offer in these sad times.
I have made arrangements for the funeral to occur on the 12th day of Rova, 4711, and that the reading of my father’s final Will and Testament will occur later that afternoon. I look forward to meeting you and hearing stories of my father’s exploits.
The stew bubbled merrily as she reread the letter again.
Finally, after reading the letter for the umpteenth time that day, Tomomi stashed the letter in her backpack, and pulled out a bowl and a ladle. She had not been travelling with any destination in mind, just that she was travelling. Along the way on this rarely used road, she chanced upon some rabbit droppings. After a bit of hunting, the rabbit in question was now in her stew.
"Hmm... More salt?" Tomomi wondered, as she moved the pot of stew away from the fire to cool it down.
She ate her stew in silence, pondering the letter and its content. It was just a while ago that a rider came up to her in this woodland road, shoving the letter into her hands before riding off, presumably to deliver other letters. Lorrimor, whose daughter sent her this letter, was dead. And, he named her in his last will. What was it that made him put her name in there? Her beauty? Her skills in the sword? Or their myriad adventures together during the time she worked as his bodyguard?
In any case it filled her with rather conflicting feelings. She wanted to puff out and preen herself over being chosen so, but at the same time, there was a twang of sadness that said she shouldn't do so.
Finishing her meal, she laid down upon her bedroll and stared up at the starry night. She had no desire to actually get into the sleeping bag, considering she had these fear that she would not be able to wriggle out of them fast enough if anything happened. And something might happen, considering how beautiful she was.
Of that at least, she was very sure of. Tomomi kept herself as clean as she could, whenever she had the chance. Her visage, her silvery hair that had soft downy plumes here and there, even her golden eyes was something she was extremely proud of. If she had only a larger, more beautiful wings...
Sighing, she closed her eyes. There was no way she would miss the funeral; she would have to find another more traveled road to get there before that date.
The old man's death had been expected--at least on Iris's part. The courtesan lounged on his trainer's bed, cat-like between the sleeping man's legs as he read over the letter once more, regretting not asking the professor where he lived. He would have liked to see the man's last moments and watch the final spark of life disappear. Morbid, but for longer-lived races the certainty of natural death was a long time coming and mortality always evoked a grieving respect.
He had traveled to the homestead of a Bradar Stotsk on the professor's recommendation the last time they had exchanged correspondence almost four months ago. The man's letter had been cryptic, as always, but strongly insisted the courtesan learn the basic arts of surviving without modern conveniences, even going so far as to provide a willing wilderness survival trainer. The matter seemed urgent and in obvious preparation for some long excursion, and Iris had almost passed up the chance, wondering what could possibly be better than obscenely rich clients spoiling him silly with gifts.
But he was selling himself short, he knew, because his talents were for more than magicking colorful lights to entertain his customers during nightly activities. So he had sighed into the crook of his latest guest's neck and decided to chase after a moonlit dream with only the evening breeze as company. Packing was a quiet and easy affair, most of his valuables already stored in a small, portable jewelry box and what money the brothel had allowed him to keep hidden in a coin pouch tucked under a loose slab of floorboard. There was no reason to announce leaving like he was departing a family. The brothel would live with or without him and he had paid off his purchase debt long ago.
Bradar Stotsk was a veritable bear of a man, with scars detailing his storied past and a grizzled beard that invaded the space of his neck. He had eyed Iris with the contempt of a man who knew all too well what sort of lifestyle the courtesan had indulged in until then and had quickly put the Aasimar to work on chores and basic survival lessons, signing Iris up for a job at a nearby restaurant as the chef's assistant to learn food preparation and cooking skills as well.
But resisting the persistent Aasimar's advances was difficult, especially for a man as virile as Bradar and off-days were eventually filled with the scent of light flowers from Iris's specially prepared lubricant and the courtesan's exotic perfumes. Just as Iris had begun to wonder how long he was meant to study the art of surviving in the wild, the letter from Kendra Lorrimor arrived, announcing the professor's death and subsequent invitation to attend the funeral.
He hadn't known the professor in depth, but Iris certainly mourned the man in his own way. There had been a keen understanding from their every conversation that the courtesan missed, perhaps lonelier than he would like to admit.
"Yer going." The statement from a bleary Bradar was neither accusation nor exclamation. The trapper simply knew in the way the slender body turned away almost instinctively towards the door, shoulders taut as blue eyes skimmed the letter over once more.
"I am," Iris agreed, a gentle lilt of his voice on the second word confirming almost playfully the fact.
"And yer not coming back."
"Who knows?" He kissed the toned, bare thigh in front of his face.
"Least have the decency t'give a parting kiss on the lips."
"But then it would mean too much."
Bradar didn't stop Iris from packing and leaving, the Aasimar strolling out the front door as casually as he had walked in, though encumbered with proper supplies this time courtesy of both his new job and Bradar's recommendations. Still, the contents of the backpack retained many of the entertainer's particular accouterments despite the trainer's query of their use in any survival situation. Iris had laughed off the concern with a wave and a wink and it was only as the dwindling figure rounded the street corner did Bradar realize his home would be much quieter without the sounds of Iris's singing and piano accompaniment filling in the dull silence.
But there were certain partings that struck people with the sheer force of their permanence, and this was one of them. As the scent of lilacs faded from the sheets and furniture, Bradar closed the door, having learned to accept long ago that there were fates beyond his ken. A pair of diamond-inlaid, gold earrings forged in ornate hoops sat on his table with a small "thank you" note from Iris, meant to be pawned for the outrageous sum of money they were worth as the courtesan's farewell gift.
Bradar put the earrings away in a small cabinet instead.
Ganth Ganth read over the letter one more time, leaning toward the fading glow of the candle to illuminate the delicate words on white parchment. Lorrimor’s passing did come as a surprise for him. The man was hardly in his prime, but he was also seemingly healthy the last time they met. That made him wonder what sort of unfortunate events that befell the man. All things died, yes, but for a man of such talent, Ganth mourned, regardless. His time had yet to come.
However, what strange about the letter was that his daughter had mentioned Ganth as one of the beneficiary in Lorrimor’s will. He didn’t know why the professor would choose him, of all people. The man knew he was not very interested in material wealth; coins could be used to fuel his crusades, but that was that. The service of his Lady was its own reward for him. Furthermore, their relationship had been strictly professional; the professor would sometimes assist the inquisitors on their quests, offering advices, knowledge and even trinkets to help ward off the threats of undeath. Lorrimor had brought up questions about his linege before, Aasimars appeared to be a subject of great interest to the scholar. Ganth had always deflect the queries, as his part was not a subject he enjoyed delving into. The reason was both sentimental and practical; his sire would not appreciate stories circulating, and he did not wish revisit much of his trouble youth.
But regardless, he would be there. Lorrimor had been a prominient supporter of his brothers and sisters, and he would not honor the invitation. That meant he would be at the gate before dawn, waving down the first carriage that headed to Ravengro. And that also meant he had a lot of preparing to do. Ganth set the letter down on the table and left to get ready.
Felsi It had been 3 months since Felsi left Lepidstadt. The place she had called home for as long as she had remembered. She wasn't exactly sure what brought the desire to leave- maybe it was academic curiosity, the desire to see with her own eyes what she had read for so long. Or perhaps it was just wanderlust. And maybe, partially, a desire for wealth and fame.
Probably not the last one. Maybe.
All the same the news of Professor Lorrimor's death was quite the surprise. Maybe not the death itself, but certainly the fact that she'd been named as a beneficiary in his will. She'd known the man fairly well- he was an old colleague of her father's, a learned man that had assisted in both his study of the Astral Planes and in the particularities of her own origin. To this end she'd talked extensively with the man, although she could hardly see why she'd be included in his will. They were friends, she supposed, to an extent at least...
She did, however, intend to attend the funeral. Lorrimor was a scholar much like herself, and there was little doubt that there could be much to learn at his estate. Doubtlessly the man had an extensive library, and perhaps he'd taken some small step in cracking the mystery that her father dedicated himself towards. More likely he had his own work to attend to, an exciting enough prospect in itself.
She let out a long sigh. That meant another journey. Yet another exciting prospect, but a scary one all the same. She'd almost been happy enough staying locked in an inn studying. Almost. And so she set about collecting her things and then taking the shortest road to Ravengro.
The sleepy little town of Ravengro sits under darkened clouds. The weather seems like it could rain at any moment, yet it remains mercifully dry as the day progresses. There is a single church in the town, a small building established by a larger Pharasmin sect, and the occasional mournful ringing of the bell echoes across the area, where it can be heard shortly before the town comes into view. Despite this, there does not seem to be much activity from below; the occasional towns-person ambles from building to building, but relatively slow besides that. Today is the day of Lorrimor's funeral, the dull ringing of the bell signaling the occasion.
The temple of Pharasma, which is Ravengro's only religious structure and also it's most elaborate. Even from the distance, you can see a large stained glass window, through which the limited sunlight is reflecting.
The scene inside the church is subtle, yet appropriate. No music plays; the only sound is the gentle murmur from some of the guests (of which there are surprisingly few), and the bell above. In the front, directly opposite of the doors, sits a closed mahogany casket, flanked on either side by a lovely bouquet of yellow flowers.
In the front row of the pews sits a trim and attractive young lady, dressed in dark and conservative clothes. Every so often, her face contorts in grief, although it is clear that she is trying her best to maintain her composure.
Behind her sits a middle-aged looking man, who although dressed in dark clothing as well, maintains a sword sheathed on his hip. In the seats across the aisle from him sits a portly man wearing glasses, an apparent scholar himself.
One row back, a young man sits. His dark black hair is parted fancifully, giving him a well-kept look for such an event. Two rows behind him sits an older gentleman, whose layman's clothes are stained with numerous black splotches and messes that you cannot place. Finally, in the far corner, there is a young woodsman; his face is unshaven, and though his clothes are nothing spectacular, it is apparent he's put in the effort to look nice.
However, it appears as though more guests are just about to arrive.
The map for the funeral seating is as follows, the numbers correspond to the people as they are described:
Ganth arrived in Ravengro just some time in the evening. The town felt quite compared to city that he left behind, though Ganth would like to think it was holding its breath in mourning. Lorrimor, for all his deeds, deserved as much. The distant tolls of the bells were not hard to follow, and soon enough, the inquisitor found himself standing in front of a chapel of his order, the doors wide-open, indicating a procession. Removing his leather gloves as he walked up the steps, Ganth tucked them into his belt before heading inside, casting subtle glances at the people present. So far, only the girl in the front row seemed likely to be the ‘Kendra Lorrimor’. But first, he had an old accquantaince to greet.
The last few steps took him toward the casket. He kept his distance, standing an arm-length away.
“You’ve lived well.” -With a hand clasped over his heart, he bowed –“May Pharasma guide your rest.”
He held the position for a few moments, before eventually relaxing and stepping back. He turned toward the young woman.
“Greetings...Lady Kendra?”
There was a slight lowering of the murmur as the aasimar entered, but it shortly rose back to normal levels. Kendra's head rose as Ganth approached the casket, red and puffy eyes tracking him as he paid his respects. She stood to greet him before he turned around, giving her face a quick wipe with a hankerchief, before reaching her hand out to shake his.
"Yes, although simply 'Kendra' will suffice. I'm not really one for fancy titles, you see." she said, giving a slight smile. "My apologies, but I don't believe we've met?"
"We have not." -The inquisitor gave her hand a firm shake -"But your father had been an stalwart ally, bless his soul." -He let go of her hand then, offering a warm smile -"My name is Ganth. Inquisitor of Pharasma."
Having arrived late due to getting lost just trying to find the town of Ravengro, Tomomi strode confidently towards the front, towards the casket, before offering him a prayer. An employer, and one who named her in his will. Her clothes were dusty and dirtied from the rigors of travel, but she paid it no mind. A dirtied jewel was still a jewel after all. Her sharp ears caught the conversation between the man and the woman at the frontmost pew, causing her to turn around.
"Pardon me for eavesdropping, but I cannot but help notice your name." She spoke, giving a polite nod towards the man. "My condolences for your loss."
Kendra gave Ganth her own warm smile, her eyes seeming to radiate some small measure of genuine gratitude beyond the outwardly teary and glassy appearance. "That's good to hear. My father made many friends, and you certainly appear to be one of the more-" Whatever it was she was going to say was interrupted by the arrival of another guest, immediately catching Kendra's attention.
"Why thank you, miss...?" Kendra said, offering a hand out towards the samurai.
"Kinpachi Tomomi," she replied, taking the woman's hand. One of his relatives, probably his daughter."I have worked with Mr. Lorrimor as his bodyguard before. I assume you too had some connection with the late Mr. Lorrimor? I'd have never thought he'd be acquainted with an inquisitor."
Tomomi turned towards Ganth at that last sentence.
"Professor Lorrimor was a man of many talents. And one of them happened to be exactly what our order needed." -Ganth simply shrugged -"Though I have a hard time believing someone like you is a mere bodyguard."
She fluffed up with pride almost immediately. "Right? But Mr. Lorrimor knew I was great, thats why he hired me time and time again to be his bodyguard. We've been through a lot together, but now..."
She deflated slightly as she looked towards the coffin. "Wonder why he named me in his will..."
"'tis a question I seek to ask as well."
"Oh! You two are both one of the ones mentioned in his will?" Kendra said, looking between the two of them. "I'm sorry, I didn't connect the names until just now! It is a double pleasure to meet you then, for my father must have had some great reason to name you directly."
"I see." Tomomi turned towards Kendra. "It was not only I that has been named, but others as well."
Stranger and stranger. She had been all for thinking the old man may had just been thinking of her, but it seemed there were others named in his will as well. For what reason? Surely it was not on a mere whim. Perhaps the actual will will reveal the reason why.
"He didn't tell you?"
"He did not. I was simply left a series of names to deliver letters to upon his de-" Kendra chokes up a little here, requiring a moment to recompose herself before continuing. "...upon his passing."
Despite the change in word, it does not seem to have helped much, as her eyes grow glassy again.
"I'm sure he will find peace by our Lady's side." -Once again, Ganth offered the grieving daughter more words of comfort. He knew, despite the certainty of death, the loss of a loved one wasn't easy to get over.
Ganth rolled a 20 for Charisma check.
Kendra wiped her eyes, seeming to summon some small amount of strength from Ganth's words. "Thank you, Sir Ganth. You try to reassure me too much, but it might be exactly what I need right now. I can certainly see why you and my father got along." Finding the funeral location was a quick affair of having eyes and looking for "the fanciest building in town," as was the helpful direction from an urchin running by. The child wasn't exaggerating, thankfully, and Iris was soon at the temple's front doors, trying to decide if he should have dressed up for the occasion. As it was, he was garbed in a simple white tunic and dark trousers tucked into his weathered boots, the appearance of a wayfaring adventurer in stark contrast to the Aasimar's smooth, pale features that hearkened back to days of decadence and debauchery. He displayed none of the typical tan and rugged weariness of a veteran traveler, yet at least looked the part with a large pack on his back and an appropriate rub of his shoulders as he unloaded the weight onto the floor.
Deciding it would look too cumbersome to wander up the aisle with a bag of supplies, he deposited the pack beside the scruffy man in the back pew, giving him a quick smile and a glance before walking towards the casket. A knight of some sort had just finished paying his respects and Iris waited patiently until the man had moved aside to speak with someone in the first row before approaching the casket himself.
The polished mahogany was slightly warm to the touch, as if it clung onto the heat from living hands. Iris tapped the wood almost impetuously with a fingernail.
"Of all people, to name me in your will...it's a wonder your daughter agreed to invite me. And even in death your actions never fail to surprise me. ...But I'll trust you on this. You always did seem to know better."
He rested his forehead against the casket's lid for a brief moment, then straightened and returned to the pew in the last row, placing the pack down onto the ground and taking a seat beside the bearded man.
"Was everyone here summoned by letter?" he asked softly, keeping his voice at the level of the murmuring.
"Aye." spoke the woodsman. His voice was low and grainy, but friendly enough for the occasion. "I was in the middle of a poker game when the missive arrived. Pulled out on a full house to make preparations for the journey. Probably should have seen that one through, but I'll have another opportunity."
"If I might ask, what was your relation with the professor?"
"You may." says the man, giving a slight nod. "I assisted the Professor with some of his research, especially in the wilderness. I was able to procure some opportunities for Petros to study some particular creatures up close."
"I trust you would not mind being asked the same question?"
"Of course not, but you might find the answer less than appealing," Iris laughed, but explained regardless. "I was a courtesan--well, I still am, really--who happened to meet the professor while servicing a client. Don't ask why I'm here. I'm wondering the same thing."
"A courte-?" the man started, raising one bushy eybrow in surprised confusion. He fortunately stopped himself before he could get the full question out, deciding it was probably not the venue for such a query. He gave a less than subtle look up and down Iris's body, before giving a slightly amused huff. "He always was a peculiar man. Can't say I have much reason to be here myself; a simple hunter doing his job. But, I'm more than happy to honor his request; I imagine we share that at least."
"Certainly." Iris smiled, not missing the look. "And I could certainly offer my services if you were interested."
"I'm sorry my friend, but I can't say you're what I look for in a companion." the man said, giving a hearty chuckle.
"A shame. The offer's always open," Iris settled back into his seat with a quick pull at the lacing that tied together the neck of his tunic. He winked, but left it at that, watching the front of the room curiously.
There was nothing much to view for the funeral, some people ambled between guests, striking up conversation or sitting quietly. However, as one of the guests turned his head, the man in the second row with the sword on his hip, Iris would catch a quick glance of his facial features. There was some familiarity to him, though Iris could not quite place it.
Iris rolled a 13 for Perception check.
Felsi, for her part, arrived with neither the dress of the decorum required for a funeral. It had been quite the journey to Ravengro, and she only arrived just in time for the funeral. Her clothes were a pale blue, a flowing outfit somewhere between a dress and a robe with matching gloves and boots. The bottom of the outfit was muddied, something that both greatly disappointed her and contributed to her out-of-place appearance. There was also the not-small fact of her unnaturally pale skins and swirling blue eyes. Overall, she felt thoroughly out of place, especially since the others were dressed so nicely. She’d read that at funerals it was customary to wear black, but she was still somehow surprised.
Well, it was too late to fix that.
Much as the others had she’d started by walking towards the casket, taking a long glance at it after the thin… Aasimar? She’d only now noticed he wasn’t the only one in the room. She’d read about them, certainly now a topic of curiosity. She’d have to catch up with one of them when they weren’t occupied, but for now she focused on the box that held Professor Lorrimor’s corpse. She didn’t have anything to say to the body, instead just letting out a low ‘hmmmmmmm’ before moving on towards the pews.
She caught sight of a scholarly looking man – surely, he’d have something interesting to say, she’d decided. She took a cautious seat next to him with an awkward smile, ”I’m, uh, Felsi.” she blurted out as she sat.
The man turned as she sat, offering a warm smile and a handshake as Felsi introduced herself. "Abraun Chalest, a pleasure to meet you!" he said, looking her up and down before adding a hesitant and unfinished "Are you...?"
Felsi gave him a long stare, maintaining her smile as she attempted to decipher what exactly it was that he meant. ”I’m… a friend of Professor Lorrimor? Are you one of his colleagues, Mr. Chalest?” she asked, making a guess by his attire, missing the point of the question entirely.
"Oh no, my dear, I'm sorry." Abraun said, shaking his head and adjusting his spectacles. "You're not part djinn are you? Was one of your relatives a genie of some sort?" he asked, looking over the woman with what appeared to be acedemic interest. He quickly recoiled though, looking back to her eye. "But where are my manners? I'm one of the leading reseachers of Osirion artifacts, and Petros frequently brought such pieces to my study. I suppose you could call us collegues."
”I see…” Felsi let out, processing his question. It was much the same as the one that Lorrimor had asked her so long ago. ”I’m… uh… no.” she said, pausing for a moment before continuing, ”I mean to say… I’m a Sylph, yes, but… I have no relation to any djinn. My father was exposed to planar energy, from the… er… Elemental Plane of Air. Perhaps you’re familiar with a Professor Grelvor Wiltmore? He was my father, a, uh, researcher such as yourself and the late Professor…. and myself, I suppose.” Felsi said, stumbling through her sentence.
"Wiltmore...Wiltmore...yes, the name does seem familiar." he said, putting his finger to his lips in contemplation. "Now that you mention it, I believe I actually did hear about that planar incident as well. Most of the Universities started putting some regulations on Plane studies after that, I think."
He brought his hands down and clapped them together excitedly. "But enough about your father, I'm sure people ask you plenty of questions about him. What are you researching, my dear?" he asked, geniunely curious.
”Well, er, for the past few years I’d been focusing my efforts on continuing his research, studying the nature of the Great Beyond… perhaps to succeed where he’d left off, I’d hoped. Although my interests have… shifted a little. In the coming months I intend to set out unto the world to tour the many places of learning across the land. Surely anything I can learn from those more well-versed in other issues will help my own studies, yes?”
"Ah yes, there truly is no greater teacher than experience! Although sometimes the lessons it teaches are not the ones we'd necessarily hoped for!" he said, giving a great exaggeration of his voice. "When you do begin your travels, do be careful. The countryside is not always the most friendly of places, and there is no shame in hiring guards to assist you."
”Yes… that’s good counsel. I’ll keep that in mind.” Felsi paused for a moment, thinking, ”You said you studied Osirion artifacts, Mr. Chalest? Could you tell my more about your work?”
"Well, since you're so interested, I suppose I can talk about it a little." the man said, adjusting his spectacles and leaning in slightly to allow him to lower his voice. "I'm sure you're aware of the Osirion culture; one of the biggest empires that rose 1000 years after Earthfall, started the Age of Destiny, still alive and well just south of the Inner Sea. All common knowledge, I'm sure. However, their artifacts can be found all across the globe, indicating that they might have stretched even further than we imagined! Some of these even suggest that they were attempting to rise to power as early as the Age of Darkness! Isn't that fascinating?"
Aubraun's eyes twinkled with excitement as he spoke, his voice brimming with similar levels of eagerness.
Felsi let out a thoughtful ‘hmmm’ as he spoke. As he finished she nodded, ”It is! Fascinating indeed.” she said with a marked enthusiasm. Perhaps she’d learn more about his research later, but for now there was another topic of curiosity. Felsi’s gaze shifted to the pair of Aasimar in front, ready to change the subject, ”Between myself and them the Professor has certainly surrounded himself with an interesting sort. I’m assuming so many Aasimar isn’t a usual occurrence in this town?” Felsi said, leaning in and speaking low so they wouldn’t hear.
"So many Aasimar in Ustalav isn't a usual occurance." Aubraun noted, looking around the room. "I think there's three of them. The two up front, and the one in the pews beside ours. At least, I believe that he is an Aasimar." he added, nodding his head in Iris's direction.
"I'd be wary, they say celestials gather where darkness lurks. Hopefully it is mere coincidence that the professor invited them."
Another ‘hmmmmm’ came from Felsi at that. ”Either way, they certainly are interesting. It’s the first time I’ve seen one in person… in fact, if you’ll excuse me Mr. Chalest, I think I’ll take this opportunity to talk to them. It was a pleasure meeting you.” she said, beginning to get up.
"And you as well, my dear. Seek me out if you're ever in Caliphas, I'd love to know how your research progresses!" Interest piqued, the Aasimar stood up for a better look, wandering forward from the left edge of the room to avoid the main aisle and keeping himself as discreet as possible between the various guests present. When he was close enough to the pew to get a better look, Iris finally remembered the man--a frequent customer of the Violet Widow, though he hired courtesans mostly to talk and admire him. Iris had been on the receiving end of several embellished stories the man enjoyed telling about his various adventures--all no doubt more mundane than he liked to let on.
"Lord Ariesir," Iris greeted him as he set down a respectful distance from the aristocrat. "Fancy meeting you here. Have you managed to slay any more beasts in the interim?"
The man turned to locate the source of his name, eyes taking a moment to register the face before he grew quite flustered. "I-Iris!? Wha-...what are you doing here?" he nearly shouted the question, only bringing his voice down for subtlety after he realized his mistake, ignoring the courtesan's question in favor of his own.
"Same as you, I imagine. The daughter's letter. Have you been well?"
Duristan Ariesir struggled to regain his composure, his surprise slightly overshadowed by his embarrassment. "Ah...yes...I just didn't think..." he said, nervously wringing his hands as he struggled to form a conversation. "I have been, yes. The thrills of adventuring have kept me as fit as a horse...except for the occasional spat."
He slowly started to slip into his boastful manner, attempting to seek refuge in the thing he was most comfortable with: himself.
And Iris let him, because if there was one truth he took to heart about socialization it was this: people loved to talk about themselves.
"You must tell me of your latest adventures, my lord. Ever since I took a vacation from the Widow, I've truly missed your daring feats."
"Well..." Duristan started, eyes darting around to see if anybody else had noticed his flustered moment. "I've not told many people this story, but my hirelings and I are hunting the most interesting of beasts. Apparently there is a legend around Ustalav of an undead draconic chimera...thingy. And I intend to find it!" he seemed quite proud of himself at that statement, seeming to sit up taller.
"If anyone can slay the creature, it's you, my lord!" Iris exclaimed as loudly as was acceptable. He leaned forward with a light clap of his hands, the very picture of eager support. "I wish you the best of luck, though I hardly think you'll need it."
"Quite right you are! I've got my men tracking it as we speak, and I aim to meet with them immediately after the funeral. You mark my words, that creature will be slain by the end of the fortnight!"
"You give yourself too little credit. Surely sooner than that! But your humility precedes you, my lord. Ever the perfect noble."
"Why thank you, Iris. How have you been anyway? You mentioned a vacation, and now that I think of it, it has been a while since I saw you last!"
"I've left the Violet Widow for now, I suppose. Wanted to see what else was out there for me. But mine's a story that would bore you to tears and you certainly don't need the distraction when your quarry's near town. Suffice it to say I've been well, but I'm very glad to see you're faring spectacularly. They'll have you down in the annals of history yet, my lord, just you wait and see."
"They certainly will have me in the...annals. Most certianly! Perhaps after that, they will even write stories about me! Records of my great escapades!" Duristan rose with pride some more, before shrinking back down into his seat, lost in grandeur. "Worry not, for I will remember the little folk when they do! Perhaps I'll even mention you, Iris! As a friend of mine of course...not as-" he said, quickly becoming embarrased again.
"You're too kind, Lord Ariesir. You needn't mention me at all! I'm more than happy to cheer you on from my lowly position. A king doesn't remember every ant he passes on the street, and neither should you. But I'm more than flattered you would even bother to remember my name. Can it be possible that you're both humble and magnanimous?" Iris feigned a shocked look before settling back into his customary smile. "I am already unworthy to be in your presence, but forgive my selfishness that I choose to remain regardless. I can't help myself."
"Why thank you Iris, you certainly flatter me! I am quite 'mag-nanie-moose', aren't I? Durisian said, puffing his chest out despite his very obvious mispronunciation of the word.
"I'm certainly glad to have you as a comrade, Iris. Even if you are stuck in your position."
"Not all of us can aspire to your lofty heights, my lord. I am content with what I have, the greatest of which is your regard for me as a comrade. I'm honored, truly! I can offer little by way of help, but if there's anything you'd like of me, ask and I will endeavor to fulfill." The courtesan bowed slightly from his seat, closing his eyes briefly in reverence before straightening again.
"Well, I cannot think of any reason to put you in harm's way for this hunt of mine. It's quite dangerous." the man said cockily, adding the appropriate emphasis.
"But do look for me if you're ever back at the lodge, it would be excellent to enjoy your companionship another night."
"Nothing can best you, my lord, though I can't help but ask that you stay safe, regardless. The world can't afford to lose any more leaders in this time of strife. As for the lodge, well, you could consider me a bit of a freelancer at the moment. If you want my company, all you need to do is ask."
"W-well...I can't exactly ask that here." Durisian stuttered, lowering his voice and looking around. "And I'm leaving immediately for my hunt, though I will be returning to the Shudderwood afterward."
"I will try to remain intact, however. So that you may enjoy my company if you return to the area."
"Everyone needs your company, Lord Ariesir, though I'm glad to be in your thoughts. Unfortunately I've left my pack unattended for quite a while and don't wish to cause a stir in this place if I've lost it, so I'll return to my seat. But may the gods protect you on the hunt, and bring you the glory of victory."
With another bow as he stood, Iris slipped back into the left aisle of the room, weaving his way past other guests and sitting back down in his original seat beside the woodsman, heaving a sigh of disappointment. No dice this time with Lord Ariesir, but at least he wasn't in desperate need for coin yet thanks to small savings from his latest and less-than-glamorous occupation as a cook. Giving the woodsman a nod of thanks for keeping watch on his posessions, Iris settled into his seat to wait for the reading of the will by the Lady Lorrimor--whoever they were in this room.
Felsi stood for a moment before creeping slowly into the conversation. ”Um, excuse me,” Felsi said a little quieter than intended, ”Hello!” she managed just a little louder, giving a small wave to the Aasimir and the young lady she could only assume was Lorrimor’s daughter, ”I’m Felsi.” she managed, glancing across the small group. It crossed her mind that perhaps she should’ve looked for a more opportune time to introduce herself, but it was far too late to consider that now.
"A pleasure to meet you Felsi, and thank you for coming. Kendra Lorrimor." she said, offering a handshake. It would be clear to Felsi that, depsite the circumstances, she was still trying to maintain a strong appearance, however difficult it actually was for her.
Tomomi turned towards the new arrival, her train of thought broken. "Greetings to you, Felsi. Did you need something?"
A newcomer, one that looked human, but... Tomomi's eyes could see the way her hair moved as if carried by the winds, and her eyes... .She had no idea what the girl was, but judging from how interesting she looked, Tomomi could hazard a guess as to which recently deceased professor brought the girl here.
Felsi nodded quickly at the Aasimir’s question, returning Kendra's handshake as she continued, ”Yes, yes, well…” Felsi leaned in a little closer towards the girl, examining her, ”I was… wondering if either of you had wings?" she asked, adjusting her glasses as she glanced between the two Aasimir, "I read that Aasimir sometimes have wings.” she quickly added.
Tomomi leaned back slightly as Felsi started examining her. Was it the soft fluffy feathers here and there in her hair? Her fair complexion even with all the travelling she did? Or was it her golden eyes that seem to glow softly with its own light? Upon hearing the question she asked, Tomomi's expression darkened slightly.
"That is true. Sometimes Aasimars have wings. The name's Kinpachi Tomomi, just call me Tomomi."
Felsi gave Tomomi and expectant glare. ”Yes. Tomomi. Nice to meet you. And the question was if you have wings.” apparently Felsi either didn’t care or wasn’t aware of Tomomi’s expression.
"Ganth" -Ganth gave the newcomer a slight bow, before introducing himself -"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Felsi."
However, the question that followed did make him raise an eyebrow. It was true that Aasimirs had wings. He had read about it in books and tomes, and sometimes, some of his brothers and sisters did ask the same question. However, as far as he knew, this was not common knowledge. Or was it? His knowledge about his own kind is painfully thin.
"I don't, unfortunately. But I have yet to meet an Aasimar who does."
"That is correct. Now,"Tomomi turned to Felsi. "I am how I look. But you, what are you? I have seen many people in my travels and I have yet to see one that seems to flow with the wind even as they walked."
”Ganth. Nice to meet you.” Felsi said before turning to Tomomi, eyes widening a little before she nodded, ”Right. I’d prefer to call myself a human, but I’m more accurately called a Sylph. Uh… the simple explanation is that I have a tenuous relation to Djinn. But more importantly…” Felsi bit her lip, reaching a hand into her backpack and producing a journal, and quickly after a pen and a bottle of ink to match. She filled her pen before stuffing the bottle back in her pack, securely tightening the lid, already beginning to scribble into her journal.
"Oh, are you a researcher as well, Miss Felsi?" Kendra asked curiously, looking in interest at the notebook.
Felsi seemed absorbed in thought, barely perceiving Kendra’s words as she chewed on the end of her pen. ”Yeah.” she muttered, not looking up from her journal.
Kendra nodded at the short answer, going back to her sullen silence. There'd be time for regular conversation another place.
It wasn't very much longer until the tolling of the bell ceased, playing one small sequence of notes before stopping altogether. Kendra shook slightly at the series of tolls, before looking to the three gathered around her. "Excuse me, my friends; I believe this is my duty."
Kendra stood sharply, standing in front of the casket. Although she was attemping to look strong and prideful, it wasn't hard to see that grief still plagued her mind, and the tears were threatening to spill over her face.
"It is time for the procession." Kendra announced, looking over the few people seated in the church. "Will anybody- she stopped for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. "...Will anybody carry my father down the Dreamwake?"
Being unfamiliar with the local customs, Tomomi simply gave her a puzzled look as she stood up as well. "The Dreamwake?"
“It is a path of The Graveyard.” -Ganth supplied helpfully, seemingly broken out of his deep thoughts just then. The Inquisitor observed as the young woman rose to call for pallbearers, the customs and proceedings all too familiar to him. So with little hesitation, he stepped forward with a raise hand.
“Allow me.”
”Oh yes! Allow me!” Felsi raised a hand and sauntered up, her voice holding none of the solemnity that it should have. It seemed to her that she’d come out here for new experiences, and this was quite the experience. It was the chance to learn about local customs hands-on; and, also, she supposed that she owed it to the old Professor, although that was an afterthought.
"Is that so?" So a Dreamwake was simply the path going to the graveyard, and the woman was simply asking for people to help carry the coffin. Nodding solemly, Tomomi spoke up again. "I'll do it."
The young woodsman in the back stands as well, with only a gruff "Aye." as confirmation before he gently scooted past Iris, walking up towards the front. At nearly the same time, the well-kept man with the dark hair also stands, but says nothing, silently walking up towards the coffin with the rest of the group. Durisian, for his part attempts to slink down into his seat, but is shot an angry glare by the woodsman, more intimidation than coercion. The hopeful adventurer looks at him once, before slowly standing to his feet. "Yes. I- I will also help! It would be my pleasure!" he says, approaching the five other gathered people. Kendra, as the professor's closest living relative, has the job of leading the procession through the Restlands and down the gravel pathway of the Dreamwake, which for her part she does very well. Her steps are slow but sure, and she does not turn back to the procession to make sure everything is progressing; to do so would be seen as not trusting the people who had volunteered to carry the burden of the deceased's death. Those that carried the casket would find that it was an easy job with the six of them, the slight slack from Duristian's side easily compensated for by the strength of the woodsman.
As the procession reaches the halfway point along the Dreamwake, they round a corner onto the Everpath, another trail through the Restlands. It is here that the procession seems to be blocked; a group of a dozen surly looking local people stand in the path, the tallest of the group speaking out as soon as the procession is noticed.
“That’s far enough. We been talking, and we don’t want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!”
“Why is it so?” -From the front, Ganth narrowed his eyes at the men. He kept his gaze level, but his tone was sharp. For the followers of Pharasma, to be denied rest in worthy grounds was the greatest of insult, and he would not let Lorrimor suffer such.
"We won't be having a necromancer buried with our kin. I suggest you move out while you still can!" came the reply.
"A necromancer?" -Ganth raised an eyebrow -"Surely you are mistaken, good men. I have known the professor ever since I first came to Ustalav. He was definitely no heretic."
Ganth rolled a 27 for diplomacy
The group of thugs collectively pauses, many of them exchanging looks or otherwise murmuring to themselves. After a moment in which it seems like the tension might boil over into a fight, one of the members of the mob slinks off, followed by another, and another. They all sullenly disperse, but not without a few venomous glances shot towards the rest of the procession. Nonetheless, they slink off and leave the Restlands, allowing the procession to continue.
Curious, but careful not to draw attention to himself, Iris peered at the irate citizens reluctantly walking away, the news of necromancy completely unexpected. He would not have been wholly surprised if the rumors were confirmed given the professor's wide array of knowledge, but the opposition to it seemed adamant in their cause--at least enough to try gathering and protesting before the knight in front scared them off. Deciding to hold his questions until after the burial, Iris continued along, walking closely behind the woodsman.
"Well done." Tomomi was in no mood to talk nor bargain. While she was loathe to spill blood during anyone's funeral, she would not have suffered such fools lightly, especially then they intruded so rudely upon the ceremony.
"There is just a misunderstanding, I'm certain." -Ganth said simply -"They don't know what they are accusing him of."
"No doubt." spoke Kendra, huffing once and flattening the front of her dress down nervously. "Necromancy. It's hard to believe a group of people could be so very ignorant."
Kendra nearly turns to face the procession, getting half a rotation before stopping suddenly and whirling back around to face forward. "You have my thanks, and my apologies. I didn't mean to put any of you as the target of anger, however foolishly misplaced it was."
"It's no worries, lass. Those thugs would have quickly met the business end of my knuckles if they'd tried anything. Fortunately, our silver-tongued friend here prevented that." speaks the woodsman, shifting slightly under the casket.
The assault now past, the procession continues up to the plot that has been readied for Petros. There are no further complications that prevent the lowering of his coffin into the open grave by the gravediggers. The priest, a small wrinkled old man known as Father Grimburrow gives a very short sermon, and invites Kendra to say a few words about her father.
Kendra, who has to take a moment to fight back tears, nods gratefully at the pastor, before stepping forward. "My father was a great man, as many of you know doubt know. But he was more than great, and he was more than just my father. He was a scholar of nearly everything, from ancient ruins to his middling in botany, and all of his research has gone to benefit someone else. Even if it was just one person, my father always made sure that they were taken care of. He was not just a professor, but a friend. He was as much a friend to me as he was a father...and there will be many other people apart from me who feel this loss. I thank you all for attending this; it means more to me than you could ever know, and if anybody else has something to say, please do."
Ganth kept his head low, bowing in respect of the deceased. Otherwise, he was quiet, his words choosing this moment to abandon him.
Felsi chewed on her lip, looking towards the ground when Kendra called for people to speak for her late father. She certainly had words, yes, but she never was very good at expressing them, so instead she opted to keep quiet for fear of ruining the event.
"Then, allow me." Tomomi stepped forwards. "I am Kinpachi Tomomi, one who he had hired again and again to guard him. There was once, when we stumbled upon a monster far beyond my skills, a formidable creature with skin hard as rocks. We escaped by the skin of our teeth, and by virtue of my own skills, but, I had taken grievous wounds while keeping him safe. It was truly a formidable monster, you see. But as I said, I suffered grievous wounds. Any other would have bolted, and left me for dead, or perhaps do even worse. Instead, he patched me up, and helped me get back on my feet. The monster was really strong, to leave me that wounded see, else I would have dispatched it with ease."
She frowned slightly. "Hmm, I have lost my train of thought there, but what I wanted to say was, Lorrimor may not be a perfect man, but he is certainly an honorable man in my eyes. And those who claim he is anything less would have to answer to my blade."
With that, she bowed and stepped back again.
"What if I do claim he's anything less?" Iris piped up, vaguely amused at the threat to the reputation of a dead man. He wasn't especially close to Lorrimor, nor did he have the same reverence for the scholar as the rest of the group, apparently, but he did have something to say. "There are two ways to dehumanize a person, did you know? Look down on them and look up to them." The Aasimar licked his lips slowly, the action intentionally promiscuous. "I'm a courtesan by trade," he explained in the aftermath of the gesture, laughing lightly, "so I'm quite used to being looked down upon both figuratively and literally. But the Professor never did that, despite everything he saw. So I'd like to think he wasn't some detached holy man whose sensibilities passed far above ours, but someone who could stand on equal footing with every sort of noble and miscreant this world has to offer. No 'greater' sort could look a naked courtesan splayed out on the carpet dead in the eye and hold an earnest conversation with him." At that Iris laughed again, the sound at odds with the somber event. "But less is more for that man. In a way, he stepped down to my level and I thought that made him so much more than just a wise man and a scholar. It made him a fellow human who knew flaws and vices and held them with a measure of respect--at the very least for their power over others."
A quiet sigh followed the lingering traces of laughter and speech and the rest was spoken mostly to himself.
"Whatever awaits us beyond, Professor, I'm sure you'll have it figured out or befriended by the time we get there, isn't that right?" Slipping into silence, Iris let the moment dissipate, eyes tracing the shape of the coffin.
There is a moment when nearly all the guests frown angrily at Iris as he talks, although they soften up considerably when they realize the extent of his point. The tears flow freely from Kendra's eyes again, the older gentleman at the dark haired one both close their eyes solemnly, and Duristian has to cough once to fake composure, his misty eyes giving him away. The rest of the burial goes off without a hitch, as the casket slowly disappears beneath the dirt.
Kendra takes this opportunity to personally thank everyone for attending, flitting between guests once she has regained herself. It doesn't take too long before the grave is completely filled, the Father gives Kendra a few parting words and a quick hug before he and the gravediggers pack up and head home for the evening. There, with the sun setting, the guests depart one by one, and it is just the five of you standing in the Restlands. Five living visitors in a garden of the dead.
"Well then." says Kendra, wiping her eyes and nervously flattening the front of her dress again. "I suppose we should be going then. It's starting to get awfully chilly out here, and there's still the matter of the will to attend to. Let us return to my fathe-...my estate." she says, pausing to remind herself.
The walk through the market district of Ravengro isn't anything very interesting. The shops are all beginning to close, save for the Tavern, whose warm light flickers invitingly. You only see two other souls on your way; a child that looks to be in her early teens running through the square, and an old farmdog curled up under the gazebo steps, who the teen pauses to pet before scurrying off towards what appears to be the residential part of town.
Just outside of the market square, there sit a small number of regular houses, and one modest estate. It is at this estate that Kendra climbs the steps and pulls out a key, unlocking the door and inviting you all in to sit in the common room. The rooms are decently furnished and there are a few paintings of far off lands hung on the walls, but most of the extra space is taken up by large bookshelves, which seemed to be crammed in every available nook and cranny that could feasibly fit one.
Kendra herself sits in one of the armchairs, looking over the rest of you. "I apologize, but the councilman isn't scheduled to arrive for another hour or so. Please, make yourselves at home." she pauses for a moment, seemingly contemplating something, before jerking up and nearly launching herself out of her chair. "Where are my manners!? Would anybody care for a drink? Some tea, perhaps?"
“Just some water for me, if that’s no trouble.” -Ganth accepted Kendra’s hospitality, settling down on one of the nearby chairs. Arriving just in time for the ceremony, the Inquisitor had yet to change out of his travelling outfit, the many layers along with various strenuous activities earlier had begun to feel rather uncomfortable. As he sat, Ganth observed the guests as well as the interior of the room.
"You just buried your father, my lady. If you'll tell me where the refreshments are, I can manage that much, I'd think," Iris replied, setting his pack down near the door.
Felsi’s eyes visibly lit up at the sight of Lorrimor’s book collection- it exactly what she’d been hoping for. ”I’m, er, quiet all right, thank you.” she said, examining the contents of the nearest bookshelf before picking the first tome that caught her eyes. ”I hope you don’t mind.” she muttered in Kendra’s general direction, already starting to read the book.
Kendra relaxed in her seat slightly, looking at Iris. "It's in the kitchen. The tea bags are in one of the cupboards above, and the stove is right there. Be careful with it though; it's one of my father's projects. All you have to do is turn the knob and set the kettle on the fire. It should heat the water fairly quickly."
With a nod, Iris walked off towards the only hallway leading anywhere further into the mansion, finding the kitchen quickly enough by the obvious counter and stove in the room. The knight had asked for water and Iris wanted tea so while the water boiled within minutes he found a small wooden tray on which to carry the glass of water and teapot. Just in case anyone else wanted a hot drink, the courtesan placed four more cups onto the tray, arranged around the teapot. Just then, the kettle's whistled, as fast as Kendra had promised, and Iris was soon returning to the sitting room, tray in hand.
Felsi's book wasn't a super interesting one; a small encyclopedia on naval navigation, including the methods of reading stars, different types of weather patterns and how to observe them, and the basic fundamentals on how to sail a boat in inclement conditions. Everything an aspiring sailor would need, but most likely very dull to those not actively interested in the topic.
There was a moment of awkward silence before Kendra spoke up again. "So...where are all of you from?"
"Very far away, I doubt you would have heard of it." -Ganth shrugged -"But it hardly matters now."
"Water, was it?" he asked as he approached the armored knight. A smooth glide of movement took him towards Ganth's seat after placing the tray down almost soundlessly on a table nearby. The glass of water was offered with both hands, one to hold and the other for the cup to rest upon while Iris dipped his head in a slight bow.
"Thank you." -Ganth accepted the cup, noting the dancer's posture. He did mention it, didn't he? A...courtesan? -"There's no need to be so formal, my friend." -Regardless, he offered Iris a smile.
"I'm Ganth, inquisitor of the Pharasman faith."
Iris returned the smile, straightening. "Iris, the courtesan," he replied, the casual admittance of his less-than-illustrious profession the invitation to ask, if there were any questions. "A pleasure to meet you, Sir Inquisitor," though the title came out in a gently teasing tone. "Thank you for dispersing that mob from earlier, though I'd expect no less from an imposing knight like yourself."
“Imposing? Am I?” -Ganth took a sip from his water, before letting his lips quirk up in a smile –“I thought I tried not to be.”
"Ah, I'll have tea please!" Tomomi spoke as she piled her traveling kit onto one corner. Reclining on one of the chairs, she let out a sigh, feeling happy to have some degree of comfort after long days of hard travel. "I'm from Tian Xia. Just a wandering ronin, looking to see the world as she travels."
"Of course, my lady," Iris bowed in her direction before returning to the tray, pouring some of the rose hip and jasmine tea he had found into a porcelain cup and saucer and presenting the drink to Tomomi in much the same way as he had Ganth. "Tell me about your homeland? I'm afraid I've never traveled far until now, so much of my experience comes from travelers with storied pasts."
Felsi had been mildly interested in the book, if only for the fact that it covered a topic she had little to no knowledge of, but at the mention of Tomomi’s homeland she snapped the book shut, returning it to its proper spot on the bookshelf. Felsi directed her gaze towards the Aasamir, ”Oh yes, please, do tell. I’ve read much of Tian Xia, although that doesn’t quite compare to a direct account.” Felsi said, already pulling out her notebook once again.
Pleased to be the center of attention, she sipped some of the tea. It tasted... different, certainly not bad, but not what she was used to. "Hmm, where do I start... Ah, I lived on Minata, though I'm actually Tian Min, my parents moved there see." Tomomi wasted no time in telling them about her home town, about that old lady that seemed to have lived there since her father was a boy, her teacher, her training, and minute details like how certain food that was common there wasn't common here. There were of course, parts she skipped over, parts she was unwilling to speak of. "Well, I didn't want to stay there my whole life, so I picked up what I can, and started to wander about."
"Oh! Minata! My father told me stories of Minata; he went there for a about a month while I was just a little girl." Kendra chuckled to herself, sipping some of the tea Iris had made. "He always used to bring me back little toys and candies and presents whenever he returned, and I remember him lamenting about the one thing it seemed like Minata didn't have: bakeries. The very first thing he did when he got back was take me out to one of the local baker's. 'I've been craving a well-done eclair for three weeks now!' he shouted as we walked in. That poor baker was so confused."
She chuckled a little harder, taking a breath before the slight wave of melancholy washed over her again, trying to hide the sudden shift by taking another sip.
Quietly, Iris placed another full cup of tea on the table closest to Kendra, returning to the teapot with a feigned interest in checking how much the leaves had steeped by then.
Up until now Felsi had been diligently taking notes on Tomomi's description, listening with a marked interest. However, once Kendra shifted gears she had a surprising moment of social awareness, softly shutting the book and stowing it once again, "He... he was a good man." Felsi said uncertainly, not quite sure how she should act in this situation.
Ganth shifted uncomfortably, suddenly found his glass of water fascinating. As much as he respected Lorrimor, they were acquaintances, nothing more. Ganth had few stories to tell of the professor.
When he could reasonably examine tea leaves no longer, Iris decided to follow up the comment, figuring awkward silence wouldn't help anyone's grief. "When I first met the Professor, I was servicing a client. The brazen sort with no respect for etiquette--so he had me in the room, sitting on the floor right between his legs, wearing nothing but jewelry. I remember preparing myself for all sorts of outrage and insults when the door opened and the Professor walked in." He brought the teacup to his lips, but didn't drink. "But he just asked me if--of all things--it was all right to move my clothes off the nearest chair so he could sit down." At the memory, Iris laughed into his tea, a soft exhale of quiet amusement, tempered with the sorrow underlying the occasion. "I don't think I'll ever meet anyone like that again."
There was a brief moment in which Kendra looked at Iris, her expression shocked. He'd dare tell a story of his sexual exploits in a time like this?
But, it soon became apparent that this wasn't her thought process at all. A small smile grew across her lips, eliciting a small chuckle, before growing wider. Finally, it was full-blown laughter, with Kendra being forced to set her teacup on the stanf beside her chair to avoid spilling anything on herself. It took a few moments for her to stifle herself enough to talk, a small laugh escaping occasionally between words.
"Of course he did. There was nothing that fazed that my father when he was conducting business. I could have lit myself on fire and he wouldn't have even blinked if he were in the middle of research. God, what a daffy man. Move the clothing off his chair...that was him alright." she said, shaking her head incredulously. She finally brought the tea back to her lips, hiding a wide grin this time instead of a sudden bout of sorrow.
Tomomi just stared quizzically at Iris, wondering what he meant, but keeping her questions to herself.
"The professor had always been...single-minded." -Ganth concurred.
The conversation from there dealt basically along the same lines; short small talk while the group awaited the arrival of the Councilman. It wouldn't take too much longer until perceptive ears heard the thumping of large feet up the stairs, or the sudden pounding at the door. Exactly an hour had passed - and there was certainly someone outside. The thick oaken wood of the doors providing the only barrier between whatever it was, and the small group huddled inside drinking tea; their own shadows, cast by the fireplace, flickering across the walls.
A dark figure stood on the porch of the Lorrimor Estate. The day was relatively overcast, not that it was an uncommon occurrence for the small town; most of their days seemed to be overcast. However, the setting sun combined with the thick clouds meant that it was quickly growing darker. As the faint shadows stretched across the landscape, the figure at the entrance raised his hand again, demanding entry.
The pounding of the door rang through the common room once more, and Kendra, desperately trying to find some form of coaster to set her cup down on, finally relented by setting in on the side table, and hopping out of her seat. "Oh! That'd be the councilman now! Please, everyone have a seat, I'll bring him in right away!"
Iris took a seat beside the teapot, conveniently located at the rough corner of the sitting room where the group had converged, wondering if this was as simple a matter as a will and testament. Given what the Professor had insisted he learn prior to the unfortunate funeral, the courtesan doubted the matter was at all simple.
From the space in the common room, you can all see Kendra swing open the large oaken doors and address an unseen figure; beckoning him to come inside, judging by her hand gestures. Into the house, and after only a few loud steps into the common room, walks who you can only assume to be Councilman Hearthmount. The councilman is quite a large figure, in width more than in any sort of imposing form. His hair is slicked across his head, similar to his pencil mustache and small goatee, which are also slicked down. He does not give any introduction, his beady eyes glancing quickly over each and every one of you. It's very clear, even on the surface, that he does not approve of outsiders being involved in local matters. Or, that's what you could best attribute his apparent disdain for.
Kendra takes a seat in her armchair as the councilman produces a large scroll case, shows of the Professor's personal seal (which is unbroken), then breaks the wax and opens the case. As he does, a small iron key falls out of the scroll tube, clattering noisily against the floor. Hearthmount, undaunted by the key, unfurls the scroll contained within and begins to read aloud, clearing his throat once before he does.
“I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child. I know you have never found peace in Ravengro, and have always longed to go back to the city, so I have arranged for an interested person to buy the estate.”
“Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading of this document to be delayed until all principals can be in attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I have two final favors to ask.”
“To my old friends, I hate to impose upon you all, but there are few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of what it is I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge of one’s enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans.”
“And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have borrowed remain in a trunk in my Ravengro home. While invaluable for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause. “
“Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is the matter of another favor—please delay your journey a few weeks and spend that period of time here in Ravengro to ensure that my daughter is safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone, and if you would aid her in setting things in order before the buyer arrives, you would have my eternal gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum of one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in Lepidstadt—she has been instructed to issue this payment upon the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one fortnight after the date of the reading of this will.”
“I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this fourth day of Calistril, in the year 4711.”
The councilman stops, wrapping the scroll up and placing it back into its case. His eyes dart around the room one more time, as if daring anybody to ask questions, before finally stopping rather expectantly on Kendra.
Felsi chewed on her pen as the councilmen spoke, a marked disinterest in her face until the mention of Lorrimor’s tomes. Undoubtedly the professor had some truly remarkable articles knowing him, and she had every intention of reading as much as she could while they went about their assigned task- which she would also do, for she owed at the very least that much to the man.
”Er, excuse me, Miss Kendra, do you perchance know where this trunk is located?” Felsi cut in.
Ganth rose to his feet when the councilman arrived, though he did note the man's dismissive demeanor from snippet of his conversation with Kendra. As the will was read, Ganth kept his expression somber, but he was also surprised. Why did the man choose him, of all people? Was a disciple of Pharasma suitable for such a task? Not that he scorned the task. He and his order was grateful for Lorrimor's help, and this was simply the least he could do. Yet, certainly there must be people more suited to this sort of work?
"Then I am at your service, Lady Kendra." -He kept his doubts to himself though, and simply bowed his head.
"O-one hundred..." A lot of money for such a simple job. Delivering some old books to some fop in a fortnight? Easy money, even accounting for guarding the woman in the meantime. "W-well, I guess that can't be helped. I too, shall help however I can."
"Oh! Yes! I think I know exactly which trunk he is referring to! Let me go retrieve it from the attic, I'm sure you would like to-" Kendra started, standing up from her seat.
"A-hem." Interrupted the councilman, looking once again at Kendra, still rather expectantly.
"Yes. Sorry. My apologies Mr. Hearthmount. You are dismissed; thank you very much." Kendra said, giving a slight bow.
The councilman offered no such bow in return, only giving one last glance around at the menagerie seated in front of him, before turning and leaving the room, the telltale sound of a door shutting indicating his exit.
Kendra immediately disappeared the other direction. From their places in the common room, the small group could hear her hustle up the stairs, the slight creaking and thud of what could only be a ladder descending from the ceiling, and a short silence. It was only a few moments before the creaking could be heard again, followed by the hustling down the steps, before Kendra reappeared. She was slightly dustier than before, and in her arms she carried a small chest; no bigger than a breadbox. On the front of it, a splendid silver lock clasped the top closed.
"I believe this is the trunk. I never could find the key for this thing, despite my father telling me to leave it alone." Kendra chuckled, looking it over in her hands before setting it down on the table. "I should have known he'd have some fantastic way of storing keys out of my reach."
"Would anybody care to do the honors?" she asked with a nervous grin.
”Yes!” Felsi answered almost immediately, ”If you, er, don’t mind. I have quite an interest in these books.” Felsi presented the key, having found it while Kendra retrieved the trunk from the attic. She approached the trunk with it, adding a small pause for the sake of dramatic effect before unlocking the trunk and opening it.
Throughout the proceedings, Iris had remained quiet, seated in the corner as the councilman made his speech and exit. It didn't settle well with him, why their motley group had been called together for something so simple. And certainly, a courtesan wasn't someone to be assigned on this sort of task, unless the daughter had some peculiar tastes in men, but he doubted the professor would hire anyone for that sort of "work." Quietly, he wondered if now would be the time to take his leave. The rest seemed more than capable of delivering a few books to another city's university and he, for once, felt far too out of place. But he didn't want to go--selfish as it sounded. Being entrusted with a dead man's will felt important. Far more than sleepless nights with customers. So he held his tongue, though the consternation crept onto his face in minute amounts.
As soon as the key was inserted into the lock, the top popped open quickly, swinging backwards and allowing full view of what was inside. The contents of the trunk were three small books, respectively titled On Verified Madness, Serving Your Hunger, and The Umbral Leaves. Despite their slightly sinister sounding titles, there appeared to be nothing very dangerous about these tomes. At least, not from the cover.
Identical notes stuck into the covers of all three of these books requests that they should be delivered to a Montagnie Crowl, a professor of antiquities at Lepidstadt University.
The fourth book was a larger one, its rich purple cover contained a brass scarab set with a single eye in its center. The covers were rimmed in polished steel and clasped with a small but intricate lock, the keyhole of which appeared to be for a key with a strange, triangular shaft. A small note stuck to this book indicated that it should be delivered to an Embreth Daramid, though the note asks that this be handled discreetly, and contains her home address.
Kendra, very notably having taken a step back before Felsi opened the trunk, relaxed slightly.
"Well, I apologize that you four are stuck here for a while. He really shouldn't have gone through all this trouble just to make sure that I was taken care of, though I suppose I cannot argue with his final wishes. There are plenty of guest rooms upstairs to accommodate all of you, and I do hope that you won't be too terribly bored in Ravengro."
"Ah wait, don't-" was all Tomomi could manage before Felsi just unlocked the box. She sighed. "From what I understand these are dangerous books. Best if we leave it in the box while we deliver them."
"All is fine, my lady. It is an honor that the late professor had chosen me to carry out his last will. I will give it my all." -Ganth eyed the books carefully as he spoke, raising an eyebrow when Felsi reached for the books -"Perhaps lady Tomomi is correct. Our duty was to deliver and protect these. Handling seemed...uncalled for."
Despite his curiosity about the books themselves, Iris remained at a distance, both out of practicality (for fear of the unexpected) and out of that keening sense that he was not supposed to be here.
As soon as the lock was open and her eyes scanned the trunk’s contents Felsi reached an eager hand towards The Umbral Leaves, the book which she had decided sounded most interesting, but she was quickly stopped by the disapproval of the others. ”Oh… well… I’m…” her voice was filled with dejection, a small sigh quickly following. ”I’m sure you’re right.” but still, Felsi’s eyes fell on Kendra, perhaps in hope that she’d get the girl’s approval.
Kendra eyed the books with the same amount of hesitation that everyone else seemed to give them, if not more. There was a slight start as her eyes met Felsi's and realized that the girl had been looking to her, before her eyes darted around to the rest of the group
"Well, I do believe that is everything taken care of. Iris, Felsi, Tomomi, Ganth..." Kendra said, looking to every one of them and giving a slight nod. "...if you need anything at all, please let me know. The estate is entirely at your disposal for the next few weeks. Myself, I believe I will be retiring for the night; it has been an exhausting day, after all." she said, slightly apologetic in her tone.
“Please enjoy your rest, lady Kendra. You certainly deserve it.” -Ganth offered the mourning heiress a soft smile as he rose to his feet, his armor clanking as he readjusted the straps on his bracers –“Meanwhile, I shall sweep the perimeter. With your permission, of course.”
Nodding, Tomomi closed the box, before taking out the key and keeping it in her sleeve. "Then, I will safeguard the box on my person."
"Do what you must, Knight Ganth. I trust the safety of the estate in your capable hands." Kendra said, her slight grin making it unclear if she was actually worried about safety, or if she was just making a small little joke at the inquisitor's expense.
"I'll do my best." -Ganth simply bowed before quickly retreated from the room, weapon ready at his hip as he began to head toward the entrance, where he could properly begin his round.
The last of the sun slowly disappeared over the horizon, casting all of Ravengro into the darkness of night. As surely as the darkness settled over the town, so to did the silence. Even the bugs that usually offered some slight background noise were not present; the chill of Ustlav and the approaching winter having sent them into an early hibernation. Save for the slight tapping of Kendra's heeled boots as she walked across the upper floor, there was nothing to be heard.
When the company had disbanded for the night and Iris had slipped away to enjoy a moment of silence, he found himself besieged by that same feeling of incongruity once more, every subconscious instinct of his picking up on the undeniable fact that he was not meant to be here, among a band of survivors and fighters to whom priceless artifacts had been entrusted. He was a whore, a long-accepted fact that he had made peace with. Supposedly.
The perfectly dimmed oil lamps on the wall were uniform in their brightness as he wandered the mansion's hallways, exploring absentmindedly to tire out the restless, uncomfortable energy that hung low o n his body. It was a habit of his profession, to be ready for the nightly activities no matter how long they lasted and his body had fallen into the rhythm of being prepared, especially after the weeks of travel with little time to care for more recreational pleasures. He could take care of it himself, and quickly, too, but the lingering discomfort of the situation propelled him to make several more rounds in the same hallway before he finally returned to the now empty sitting room and retrieved his pack, heading towards the guest rooms with silent footsteps--a practiced manner of walking to avoid rousing clients after they had fallen asleep.
His guest room was simple, not that he had expected decadence out of the professor, but the easy elegance of the carved bed frame and simple, flowery wall decor harkened back to a quaint sort of innocence. One Iris could hardly remember.
As if bored of his nostalgia, his body pressed on with its urges and he relented, stripping down to bare skin and soft-scented underclothes that he also discarded.
The method of release was easy and within minutes Iris had taken care of the most pressing desires and cleaned up, lying on his stomach and stretched out on the bed like a glorified housecat. He hadn't realized, in his urgency to calm himself, that he had left the door to his room slightly ajar, nor did he notice the knight who was now turning red on the other side.
The knight in question cleared his throat then, clearly flustered and confused by the unexpected turns of events. Just recently returned from his rounds, Ganth did not expect a stranger to be in his room, nor was he ready for the...unsavoury activity that the stranger was apparently partaking in. On his bed, no less.
"I think you're in the wrong room." -He began, keeping his tone civil and body language lax.
Iris started, sitting up quickly to look at the knight who had appeared. "...Am I?" he answered after a moment's worth of shock, "I apologize. The estate's quite foreign to me and I was distracted." The courtesan slid off the bed quickly, scooping his clothes up from the ground and watching Ganth with an almost predatory look. "Would you like me to make it up to you?"
"It's fine. Completely understandable." -Ganth remained cordial. If he noticed the look on the courtesan's face, he did not show it. -"Do you need help finding your room?"
"Maybe I could just stay in yours?" Half-lidded eyes and a ready form stalked closer, until Iris was inches away from Ganth. "Would you like any service? It'll be on the house this time," he joked, leaning in to smell the scent of armor polish and sweat that hung around Ganth.
"I don't wish to bother you. My schedule can be...atypical at times. Sharing a room with me might not be very convenient." -The inquisitor raised an eyebrow at the odd offer, but he already had an inkling of what the courtesan was suggesting. And he was hardly interested. The day was long, and the night would be even longer, if they wasted time on anything but sleep. Ganth was weary from his long trip. He just wanted to rest his eyes now -"Do you prefer this room? I can leave, if you want. Iris, was it?"
”Surely you have some needs to be taken care of? Or is it that you’re not interested in men?”
"I think I need to sleep, Iris."
It fascinated him to a certain degree how the seemingly virile knight had absolutely no interest. There was a difference between the men who feigned chastity and the ones who truly didn’t care for carnal needs and while Iris suspected there was more to the veneer than outright disinterest, he could at least tell that Ganth would not be budged. At least not now.
”Then maybe you wouldn’t mind sleeping with me?” he offered regardless, curious how far it would go as he pressed a warm leg against the knight’s bright armor.
"Don't you prefer the bed to yourself?"
”I love having company.” Iris leaned in, kissing the firm jawline lightly, the overture blatant now.
"I was told I can be a bore, sometimes." -Ganth stiffened at the intimate contact, but he did not draw back nor flinch away -"If you wish for company, perhaps consider asking someone else."
There was a reaction after all and Iris wanted to chase it down.
“No one’s too boring for me,” he replied, trailing touches and kisses further along the jawline until he tastes the knight’s lips.
That made Ganth took a few steps back though, seperating himself from the courtesan.
"Let's not do that." -A faint rosy hue tainted his cheeks, but he kept his composure.
“I can make you feel even better, you know?” Iris followed the movement, tracing fingers along the curve of Ganth’s ear. ”Won’t you let me?”
"Let's not do that." -The inquisitor simply repeated the words, gaze unwavering.
“I’m a little sad, Sir Inquisitor. You’re rebuffing me while pink in the cheeks. What am I to make of that?“ But the courtesan backed away, still stark naked and ready, though entirely rejected. ”Well, I’ll at least keep you company throughout the night, if you don’t mind. I recall you offered to share the room.” A lazy saunter took the slim body back to the bed where Iris crawled back on with slow, deliberate movements, reclining on the pillows with a defeated look.
"I offered to leave the room to you, Iris." -Ganth let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. The sweet scent of whatever perfume the courtesan was using lingered somehow, and he had to move, placing his heavy mace and shield down on a nearby table. With that done, he reached up to unfasten the claps of his gauntlets, longing to rid himself of their rough and oppressive heat.
"And I'm offering to share. Don't worry, I'll leave you be if you're this insistent, but I always love company." He swapped the positions of his feet, so that one ankle rested above the other, and examined a thin band of silver that sparkled around his right ankle, pretending to be distracted.
Ganth had shared a bed many times before, in both crowded barracks and stuffy inns, so he figured he could comply with Iris' strange request, if it meant the courtesan would leave him alone afterward. So against his better judgement, he shrugged.
"So be it."
His armor came off easily enough, deft hands worked through the clasps and buckles with practiced efficiency. He arranged them all on the desk, within a few steps of the bed. Finally, he slipped off his sweat-soaked undershirt and slipped into a new one, before turning around, glancing at the bed and its sole occupant.
"Perhaps you should consider putting your clothes on. It can get quite chilly at night."
”No need. I’ll have you to keep me warm, won’t I?” The mischief in Iris’s eyes was unmistakable, but he made no motions to suggest he would attempt anything.
"I would prefer that you...don't touch me while I sleep."
“Hmm, I will agree to avoid any explicit gestures on the condition that you let me sleep on you.” A sweet smile followed the offer and Iris patted the space beside him slowly.
"Perhaps I should take the floor then."
”Don’t be so mean, Sir Inquisitor. I’m just a little starved for a warm body near me. You have my word your virginity is safe.”
"Just 'near' would be enough then? No touching?" -Ganth crossed his arms, clearly amused by the implications in Iris' words.
”I’d like to lay on you, but if that’s so awful then near is enough.”
"Very well." -Ganth rolled his shoulders, before heading over to the bed and flopping down unceremoniously. He kept a respectful distance with his bedfellow though, and one of his arm hung off the edge of the mattress as a result.
At the sight of the gangly giant lying lopsided on the bed, Iris laughed, sitting up and stepping lightly away from the bed, clothes already back in hand. He deposited the travel clothes onto a chair in the corner and pulled from his pack a revealing outfit of soft, almost transparent silks that wrapped around him like a light dress, held in place only by ornate clasps around the hips, neck, and limbs. He spun, almost weightless in the movement as he examined the clothes. "It's been too long since I could wear this," he explained, raising a leg above his head and twirling briefly, "As thanks for indulging me a bit, I'll put on a bit of a show for you until you fall asleep."
Colorful motes of light bloomed around the courtesan and what sounded like a soft, melodic hum permeated the room. To the slow rhythm of the music he created, Iris danced, legs and arms moving in perfect sync with each other. Where a slight swell of the music demanded more complex steps, there were counterbalancing motions of the arms to hold him steady, every movement fluid and languid and part of the sultry dance that had enticed so many customers.
Ganth watched, if only for a few short moments before the day finally caught up to him. The inquisitor fell asleep quietly, breaths soft and even.
Once the knight had fallen fast asleep Iris dismissed the illusions and wandered to the bedside, watching the rise and fall of the broad chest. No one here wanted his company in the way he knew best, it would seem, and for that he felt even more out of place. He couldn't contribute anything to delivering a case of precious books nor could he find solace in the one activity that he had mastered for the sake of his postponed profession. He didn't belong. The message was as clear as day. So he sighed and returned to his pack, stowing away the entertainer's clothes and dressing once more in his traveler's garb. If he left now, no one would be the wiser, he imagined. The Professor's daughter had requested he stay for the wake and the reading of the will, and the respected scholar's testament had entrusted the group with a surprisingly simple job. He told himself it would be more beneficial to the Professor's will if he were to get out of the way now.
The pack rustled loudly as he hefted it over a shoulder, its contents jangling and clattering in the pin-drop silence of the estate.
A light sleeper, Ganth stirred awake at the unexpected noises, blinking blearily as he immediately looked for its source. It was the courtesan. He was standing with a bag over his shoulder, looking ready to leave.
"Changed your mind, Iris?" -The inquisitor straightened up -"I can escort you back to your room."
"No need," a softer voice answered him, bereft of the wily tones that had infected the conversation before, "Get some rest, Sir Inquisitor. You look quite tired."
"I insist." -Once more, Ganth refused to back down. He quickly stood up and righted his loose shirt, then walking over to retrieve his mace from its resting place -"It's late. There might be unsavoury character about."
Iris laughed again, the sound a relief to him when his humor seemed ready to simmer out for the day. "Go back to bed, Inquisitor. The only unsavory character about at this time of night is me. If you escort me, I might take advantage of you again."
"I believe I can defend myself, Iris."
"I don't doubt it. But I'm...not going back to my room, so you should go back to sleep. My apologies for waking you--and you look so tired, too." He shifted the pack on his shoulder and offered Ganth a rueful smile. "Thanks for humoring me earlier."
"Where are you going then?" -Ganth paused, puzzled -"Someone else's room?"
Another chuckle and Iris settled his shoulder against the door's frame. "Full of jokes tonight, Inquisitor," he commented, free hand lacing up the neck of his tunic, "I'm leaving. Going back to where I belong."
"You are leaving?" -It dawned on him. Of course, the courtesan seek to abandon his mission. Understandable, if not a little bit disappointing. The fear of death, after all, was shared by many -"If I may, why?"
"...I'm a whore, Sir Inquisitor. Surely you can spot the odd one out in this merry band of travelers."
Ganth was quiet for a few moments, as if considering what Iris just said. It was true, from what he had seen so far. The man had introduced himself as a courtesan. A consort. Not a fighter. Was he concerned about his own survival? Ganth could tell Iris was not a man prone to combat. Yet, his steps were too practiced, too controlled; his feline grace reminded Ganth of a predator, and not only in the visceral sense of the word. Then again, who was he to say?
"Is it fear?" -Ganth finally asked, keeping his tone even and light -"Do you think there's too much risk involved?"
"Not any more risk than servicing the absurdly wealthy who could kill you for any perceived offense and at most perhaps your favorite client would mourn your passing. But no. Not the risk. I simply do not...belong." Iris turned to leave, hoping that would be the end of the conversation, "The Professor is human. I'm sure even he makes mistakes."
"That's quite...selfish, if you ask me." -Ganth half-smiled, before he caught himself -"But you didn't. I apologize."
Still, he meant what he said. Last requests were held sacred for those within his order, so he did feel strongly about Iris forfeiting his duties. There didn't seem like anything he could do though, aside from upholding the professor's last will in Iris' stead. And he would do just that.
"At least allow me to escort you to the gate."
"I'll hear what you have to say. But you don't need to follow me out." The smaller of the two Aasimars stood outside the door to Ganth's room now, relenting one more time because something held him back despite his resolution to go.
"The professor trusted you with his request. But you are walking away, because you don't trust yourself." -Ganth leveled a gaze at Iris -"Pardon my rudeness, friend, but it is selfish. Promises to the departed should always be upheld, lest you shame yourself when it is your turn for an audience with our Pale Lady."
"What if it benefits the professor's will more that someone like me bows out gracefully?" the courtesan challenged, the blood rising to his cheeks at the reprimand.
"You don't know that. None of us do."
"I...know my place. Can you really tell me it's here?"
"It is for you to decide." -Ganth shook his head -"Though the professor certainly believed that."
"If I fail a dead man, what can I say to redeem myself?" Iris asked, though the question was rhetorical. He simply feared the unknown and wanted to fall back on more familiar tidings. "...This entire day I've felt out of place here among the professor's steadfast companions and seasoned veterans. And now I can't even seduce a knight. It all feels wrong. Like the world is telling me to be off already." He sighed, the spark of indignation fizzling out. "I don't truly want to leave."
"Then don't." -Ganth sighed, but his features softened -"And your charms are...intact, trust me. I'm just not the one you want."
"Mm, you're certainly dead in the water. But I find that fascinating." A moment while the glimmer of mischief returned to Iris's eyes and he was leaning forward again, once more invading Ganth's personal space. "I may want to stay a bit longer if you'll let me sleep on that nice, broad chest?"
"Has all that been for...this?" -Once more, Ganth fumbled, blinking incredulously at the courtesan.
"Hardly! I was quite serious about leaving, but I'm also quite serious about sleeping on you as well."
"And I was quite serious when I refused. We may share the bed, but you may not sleep on me."
"What's the harm? I like human contact, and I promise to play nice."
"It's not...decent. -The blush threatened to return full force now, prompting Ganth to relent, turning and walking back into the room. Iris didn't seem so dead set on leaving anymore, so he could be left alone to his own devices. Ganth no longer cared if he stayed in this room or not. As long as the courtesan wouldn't pounce him in the dead of night.
He was really tired.
Iris, for his part, laid down on the bed properly this time, turned to face the unamused knight who seemed ready to leap out and run at the first sign of movement. He laughed lightly.
"So wary. I'll sleep first, then, Sir Inquisitor. May you have pleasant dreams."
It wasn't long before the entertainer's features softened into sleep and in the dim glow of magicked lamps on the walls he looked almost cherubic, skin pale despite his travels and unblemished from years of careful care. It didn't seem possible that he was the raunchy bard from mere moments ago when he slept, though with his first kiss stolen and temptation lying not a foot away Ganth was hard pressed to believe the innocent visage of a sleeping Iris. Regardless, he did not hold any resentment toward the other Aasamir. If anything, the courtesan was just as lost as he was, simply just another pawn in the greater scheme of things. Against his better judgement, Ganth reached down and pulled the blanket over both of them. Because of its modest size though, Ganth found himself inching closer to the courtesan, close enough that he could feel the other Aasamir's soft breaths on the bare skin of his arm. The sensation was far more...intimate than anything he had experienced, but Ganth brushed it all aside and focused on evening out his breaths, hoping to reach unconsciousness as soon as possible.
She slipped the sword pair onto her belt, before straightening her clothes. The lady of the house seemed absent, from the brief time Tomomi had stepped out, and she wasn't about to go looking for her lest she stumble onto something private or embarrassing. Checking once more for the key, she placed it securely upon her person, not in any of her pockets but in her undergarments, where none would think to search. As for the box, she placed it deep within her backpack, hiding it within her room. Twas not her companions she feared however, twas the thieves and scoundrels that may burst into her room and make off with the tomes. Knaves that Lorrimor had wished her to protect it from.
The tavern was what she sought, a local watering hole wherein information could be found, where loose lips flapped in the abundance of drinks, or money.
That, and she wanted something strong to drink.
That being said, Tomomi had no idea where the local tavern was, having went directly towards the funeral. Stepping out of the house, she walked for a moment until she found one of the townsfolk and asked for their direction.
The townsfolk were nice enough people, even to those that appeared to be foreigners. Even the most shy of the locals wouldn't spurn somebody in need of drink, and asking around for the tavern had her pointed to a small building. A bold sign hanging just above the door marked the area as 'The Laughing Demon', while a small sign on the ground indicated that a show tonight was featuring the 'Varisian Violists'; although the 'i' in 'Violists' had apparently been hastily written in chalk when someone realized they had made a spelling mistake. The ambience seemed inviting enough, with warm lightning and the infrequent laughter coming from within.
Tomomi rubbed her chin thoughtfully, wondering if the show later tonight would be worth going. Shrugging, she went in, heading straight for the bar.
"I bid you good morning, my good man. A mug of your best drink, if you please." She spoke to the man behind the bar.Even as she spoke, she was listening hard to the chatter around her, trying to see what she can learn from idle chatter before asking in depth about anything.
"Sure thing dearie! Coming right up!" said the man tending the bar. He was a rather large figure, with a round nose and a chevron mustache, and he suppressed a sly grin as he bent down beneath the bar.
Tomomi rolled a 21 on Perception
There were only a few people in the establishment, mostly workers complaining about the day they had yesterday or pre-complaining about the day they were about to have today. The only ones who didn't seem to be talking about work were two gentlemen across the bar.
"That stupid dog nearly ran under my wagon as I was hauling grain through town yesterday. I swear, next time I'm not going to stop, I'm just going to let the wagon roll right over him!"
"Don't you dare! Old River is a good dog. Does a better job of watching your kids than you do, at least."
"Oh I've got something you can watch..." Despite the implied threat, the man just shook his head in irritation and finished his drink, while the one across from him rolled his eyes.
"Liquid ghost!" said the barkeep, setting a mug beside Tomomi, the contents of which appeared to be ale, but she could swear that it was glowing faintly green. "Four coppers."
Tomomi stared down at it incredulously. What sort of drink was that? But it did seem to be his best, so it would be rude to refuse it. Dropping the coppers into his hand, she took a cautious sip at the drink. It tasted... well, it tasted like ale, but certainly sweeter. Certainly not something she minded. Some old dog running under a wagon was certainly an unfortunate thing to happen, but not the sort of information she was looking for.
"Anything new around town?" She took another sip from the mug. "I've just came in yesterday you see."
"New?" repeated the barkeep, humming slightly as he polished a beer glass. "Well, the Varisian Violists are playing in here tonight; first round is on the house for all attendees!" he said, grinning widely as he did. His eyes flitted around, as if he was trying to come up with something else, before his grin slowly sank. "We lost one of our own recently, and I hear his daughter was taking it pretty hard, but nothing really out of the ordinary besides that."
"Ah yes, that. I've attended his funeral yesterday." Tomomi sighed, before picking up the mug and finishing off the content. "There was some odd people stopping him from being buried too. Good thing that man had a silver tongue, and talked them out of it. Wonder why they seemed so disgruntled..."
"Eh." the bartender gave a noncommittal noise. "The people 'round here have never really warmed up to the idea of magic and such. Grimsburrow is a crotchety old man, and Alendru isn't exactly a sterling example of a man."
The bartender set his glass down and leaned a little farther over the bar to speak quietly to Tomomi. "'tween you and me though, people definitely seem more on edge, recentsly. Dunno if the ol' Professor's death has 'em spooked or what, but it's definitely there."
Nodding at the bartender's words, she slipped another 4 coppers towards him, asking for another mug of that liquid ghost. "Perhaps those Violists later tonight will ease some of that tension then."
People on edge around here? Perhaps there was something more waiting, lured by whatever the professor had.
The morning came as quickly as the night had, yet it didn't seem to alleviate the subtle darkness that was still cast across the town. Dawn had come, evidenced by the crowing of an old and sickly rooster, but the overcast weather threw a sort of gloom across the entirety of Ravengro. Truthfully, the citizens of the little village had nearly grown used to either overcast or rain, and this was one of the brighter days they'd had in the last week or so. When the sun finally did shine through the crowds, there'd probably a small festival for the occasion.
For now, however, the gloom was immovable. Inside the Lorrimor estate, it was slightly better lit; the oil lanterns upon the wall seemed to flicker comfortingly - an astute observer might deduce that the lighting itself was another one of Lorrimor's creations. The oil in the lanterns remained at the same level, and the flames seemed to cycle through a pattern that only lasted a few minutes.
Upstairs, Kendra tossed in her bed. She'd fallen asleep without realizing it, and her own body was greedily sustaining the moments of slumber it had been lacking recently. As the morning came, Ganth left his room quietly as to not disturb the courtesan, before commencing another round of the estate. Upon completion, seeing as there was no one about, Ganth decided to take a walk into town, forgoing his armor and weapons to blend in easily with the masses.
Morning in the town square of Ravengro was usually a fairly similar experience day-to-day. It was too early for the village children to be out playing; save for Pevrin, who was busy putting the daily news up on the Posting Poles around town. Most of the people who wandered to and fro were either workers, usually getting a drink and a bite to eat at the local tavern before tending the fields or heading to the lake to fish, or people hoping to get the jump on market goods as soon as the buildings opened their doors. Today, there was a fair share of both in the center of town. As Ganth's eyes scanned the few locals who darted around, he could see no signs of trouble. All seemed to be quiet for now.
Ganth rolled a 23 on Diplomacy
Of course, there was more than one way to find trouble for an inquisitor. While some people might take the brash route and hunt for it like prey, Ganth knew that a gentler approach was often the best. Despite him being a foreigner, there was something about his appearance that made him seem trustworthy. Perhaps it was the slightly angelic features or the small smile; whatever it was, it meant that the gossiping womenfolk that walked around felt no need to hide their words as they walked past.
"The memorial you say?"
"Yeah, right across the front of it. Camina said she was going to grab a bucket and some rags and take care of it after she was done at the church."
"I bet it was those damned teenagers again. I'll never understand why they choose there of all places to meet eachother. Do you think it means something?"
"It was a bright red 'V'; My guess is that someone lost something there..."
"But what would someone lose that starts with a...Oh! You're terrible!"
Ganth stopped short when he finally caught something of interest. Unrest. Vandalism. A lead worth following, for now. He waited for few moments so that his approach would not be suspicious, before turning toward the women then, feigning ignorance.
" Greetings, ladies." -He bowed his head, letting a friendly smile grace his lips -"Would you mind giving me directions toward a...memorial? I have heard of such landmark here in Ravengro."
One of the women looked to Ganth, a coy smile on her face as she did so. "Memorial? We were just talking about that! You wouldn't happen to be eavesdropping, would you? That's very naughty of you."
Slightly behind her, the other woman visibly face-palmed. "It's a little southwest of the town, along the river's edge."
"You have my thanks." -Ganth merely took the teasing in strides and bowed once more before departing, heading toward his destination.
With directions given, it wasn't very difficult to find the memorial referred to. Aside from the church, the 25-foot-tall statue was probably one of Ravengro's most distinctive landmarks. Despite the moss that had begun to grown over some portions of the stonework, the image was still strikingly clear; a proud, muscular human man wielding a truncheon and dressed in leathers, guarding over the town. A few names were carved into the base of the statue, but they were slightly overshadowed by the vandalism on the memorial. A large crimson 'V' had been painted over the names, almost calligraphic. Ganth knelt down next to the memorial, running a finger over the large V, trying to determine the material of the paint.
Ganth rolled a 21 on Heal
This was no paint; this letter had been painted on with blood. A fairly decent amount of it, from the looks - not enough to kill a person, but definitely enough to do some damage.
The revelation was disturbing to say the least. Ganth brushed the last of the dried blood off his fingertips, then decided to look around the site for any evidence of violence.
Oddly enough, there was none. Aside from the slight drops that rolled down from the letter, there was no additional splatter anywhere. There were plenty of footprints, but far too many to actually track anyone down - likely gawkers having come to see the memorial's latest addition. Stumped, Ganth took one last look at the bloody 'V' before leaving. Clearly, there wasn't much left to find there. He walked by the riverbank on his way back, glancing occasionally at his surroundings.
Iris found the nearest bathroom after several minutes of peeking into rooms along the way, marveling at the quaint comfort of the decor. The Professor seemed to enjoy the old world charms, an aesthetic Iris also appreciated. Just as he had removed all the lengthy strips of fabric that made up his dancer attire and was reaching for one of the knobs, he heard the distinct sound of armor in motion--the telltale clinking of metal plates tapping against one another as someone walked. Wondering if the approaching noise was his unfortunate bedmate from the previous night, Iris wrapped one of the satin sashes around his waist stepped back out, catching Ganth just as the knight rounded the nearby corner.
"My Lord Inquisitor!" he teased with a bow, walking towards Ganth in nothing but a short wraparound.
"Iris?" -Ganth looked scandalized at the courtesan's careless clothing, the deep blush returned full force.
"The one and only. Care to join me for a bath?"
The invitation simply caused Ganth to narrow his eyes. After a few moments, the inquisitor finally responded, clearly flustered.
"No thanks."
"I'll make it good," Iris teased, wandering close enough for Ganth to smell the scent of honeysuckle on the courtesan's body, the perfume from yesterday still enticingly strong.
"I'm sure it is." -Ganth said quickly, his mouth moved before he could really think what it sounded like. Too late to take back his words now, though. Clearly, he hadn't had enough rest, else why would he struggle with words so much? -"Enjoy your bath." -Seeing as the courtesan was trying to finish what he started yesterday, Ganth believed retreat was his safest option. But Iris had caught the scent of weakness like a bloodhound and before the knight could maneuver to safety, he had already wrapped his arms from the taller Aasimar's neck, lips sliding against Ganth's jaw and neck again.
"What would it hurt, hmm?" the soft voice whispered, promising an experience to remember.
"I-I beg your pardon?" -The sudden warmth against his neck almost made Ganth shudder, and he had to fight to keep his hands still.
"It's just a bath, my Lord Inquisitor," the courtesan purred, "surely you've shared baths before."
"I have." -But Ganth didn't simply trust Iris to stop at 'just a bath' -"But...I prefer mine alone, if you don't mind."
"You're so cold to me, you know. And I just wanted your company, too."
"I do not make very good company, as I have told you before. Perhaps someone else would be far more captivating and...willing."
"But you're the only one who puts up so much of a fight. Or a front." Another kiss to his jaw punctuated the sentence and Iris's hand was creeping to the rim of his hair, deft fingers tracing the shape and slipping into his hair.
"I assure you, it's not a front." -Ganth caught his wrists then, though his grip was far laxer than what he was capable -"I follow the pale lady Pharasma. She would not approve of this...excess/"
"...Excess, am I?" The coy smile on Iris's lips smoothed into neutrality and he twisted his wrist free from the firm, but light grip. The same hand blew a kiss in Ganth's direction, but the courtesan didn't elaborate further. Instead he stepped away and turned towards the bathroom door. "Well, if you ever decide to try out any 'excess' I'm a short catcall away." He waved dismissively, as if brushing away something above his head while he walked back to the bathroom, the smooth glide of his usual gait replaced with a more measured beat.
Ganth noticed the changes easily enough, subtle as they were. Yet, he made no move to pursue the courtesan. Instead, he turned and walked back to his room. There was simply more things that needed his attention for the moment.
Felsi awoke to a dreary morning. It wasn't unexpected, considering the local climate, but a little depressing all the same. She wasn't sure if it was the weather or her inability to read Lorrimor's positively fascinating books, but she had felt a little down on awakening. After a short breakfast she decided to set out towards Lake Lias. The town, by all accounts, had quite the fishing community. Felsi wasn't interested in fishing, but surely the lake would be a little less dreary than the town.
The path from Ravengro to Lake Lias was fairly well worn. Those in village who fished as a living had to travel it every day when they went out, so many obstacles or other impairments tended to be taken care of fairly quickly. The trees had started to shed their leaves already, providing Felsi with a light crunch to every step as she walked along. Because the canopy was sparse, the woodland paths were actually fairly well lit today. Still, it was a decently long trip to the lake; 5 miles seemed fairly short when you had a horse-drawn wagon to bring home the daily catch. But, the scenery was nice, and there was something the Slyph could enjoy about the path.
Felsi rolled a 15 on Perception
As Felsi walked down the path, she noticed a few odd shapes that seemed different than the usual silhouettes of birds. Nearly the size of baseballs; two buzzing creatures bobbing through the sparse canopy, opposite the direction she was going. Whatever they were, they either didn't notice her or didn't care, as they did not stop.
Felsi rolled a 10 on Knowledge (Nature)
Felsi hadn't ever seen any notes or knew of anything that matched what she had seen. Whatever they were, they at least appeared to be somewhat insectoid in nature.
Felsi was previously lost in thought, but now upon seeing the unfamiliar creature her curiosity was suddenly piqued. The promise of a new discovery, at the very least new to here, pushed her back down the path towards town after the two creatures.
Felsi rolled a 6 on Perception
Unfortunately, the creatures had the advantage of soaring above the treetops, while Felsi had to attempt to navigate the forest while also trying not to lose track of the mysterious bug-like things. A task that proved harder than anticipated, as Felsi nearly wandered into a thorn bush, and immediately lost sight as she made her way around it. With no vision on them, she wouldn't be able to tell where they went specifically, even if she walked back to town.
Fortunately for her, it wouldn't be too hard to follow her own footprints back to the path.
”Oh, crumbs.” Felsi muttered, realizing there was no hope of catching the creatures. With a sigh she turned back, retracing her steps back to continue her way towards the lake.
For a moment, as Felsi wandered back to the trail, the wind rustled through the trees. A few leaves fluttered down, the crisp air nipped at her, and for a brief moment the sound of wind rushing past her ears sounded almost musical. Like a soft song, played for less than a second before it vanished. As she walked back she felt a faint unease and wasn't quite sure why. Lake Lias was relatively calm at this time; the breeze gained some more chill as it passed over the rapidly cooling surface of the water. A few wooden docks traced their ways out to the water, seeming to barely grasp at the edges of the lake. Out in the distance, the odd fishing boat trawled along slowly, nets accumulating their aquatic cargo as they went. The forest seemed to surround the lake completely, giving it the illusion of being a hidden spot in the woods; were it not for the obvious signs of other people around, that is.
The serene tranquility of the lake was only broken up by the soft breeze that sent ripples over the water. As Felsi watched, one boat quietly drifted into the docks, squirming payload bound tightly in a net on the deck. One of the crew jumped from the ship to the boardwalk, grabbing one of the trailing ropes and securing it tightly as the boat drifted to a complete stop. Out in the distance, more boats gently glided back and forth, nets searching for a similar bounty.
The town's dampened atmosphere was a welcome change from the bit of indignation that had arisen after the Inquisitor's inadvertent blurt. "Excess" indeed and Iris kneaded the thought around in his head until it was little more than a misshapen impression of Ganth. He had believed the knight to be awkward and shy and the sort who stood his ground over the silliest of matters. But to be called excess by someone like that was biting, because he already knew he didn't fit with the group of scholars and warriors that the professor had collected, that he wasn't fit to fill in the ranks. It felt sharp against his ribs, like an accusation that had all but reversed the knight's assertions the day prior. Stay, because it was disrespectful to ignore the dead's last wishes, but salt in the wound because he was "excess" here.
He shouldn't have felt so personally offended, but having an honest conversation with the Inquisitor last night had allowed him the illusion that maybe they understood each other somewhat.
As with so many things in his life, he was wrong, again.
So he threw caution to the wind in a fit of spite and dressed once more in the provocative dancer's outfit that he knew would attract the prolonged stares of anyone interested, leaving his skin slightly damp from the bath and his hair just wet enough to entice. But he was past caring at the moment, because this was the only skin that fit him, so he exited the estate and stepped into town, leaving behind only the large silk outerwear that usually draped over his form. To the outfit's credit, without the light material covering its wearer, it looked all the more lascivious--a scandalous affair in the otherwise quiet town and Iris watched the wholesome families shield their children's eyes from him while the more austere looked ready to drop dead from heart attacks.
There was only one public place to go with such an outfit and it was the town's tavern, easy enough to find when he questioned a passerby and watched the young boy point him towards the building with a baffled look at his attire.
The town had certainly taken notice of Iris, and the reaction inside the tavern was very similar to that outside. Nearly everyone stopped and stared the moment that the courtesan stepped inside. One man look a deep breath of his dinner in surprise, while another nearly shot his drink out his nose; both incidents invoking coughing fits from their respective actors. Sitting at one of the tables along the wall, a woman wearing a loose-fitting leather vest grinned coyly at the sudden intrusion, taking a deep puff of the skinny pipe she held in her hand.
The tavern was dead silent for a moment, even the usual boisterous laughter of its owner had been halted. The silence was finally brought to a sharp end with a loud 'CRASH'! One of the Varisians who had been setting up had accidentally dropped his music stand, and it clattered noisily to the floor. The sudden shock caused a few people in the establishment to jump in surprise, and a general murmur fell back over the tavern. It was certainly quieter than before, and Iris would easily be able to note the numerous glances sent his way. Some of disgust, others of curiosity, and one of amusement from the woman to the side. Along the bar, one man was brutally squeezing his friend around the waist, forcibly expelling the hunk of steak he'd inhaled. The man's chastizing tone could faintly be heard from Iris's position: "Good heavens, Heimlich! Be more careful when you're eating!"
With a mischievous smile, Iris sauntered to the bar top, seating himself beside a burly man who was doing his best not to stare.
"Care for a drink, my lord? I'll pay."
"As generous as you are bold?" the man said, scoffing slightly and casting a not-too-subtle glance up and down the courtesan. "Works for me; I'll never turn down a free drink. Zokar! Dwarven stout, on the fancy lad here!"
The portly bartender brought up a glass, pausing for a moment to get some sort of visual confirmation from Iris. No point pouring the drink if nobody was actually going to pay for it, after all.
The Aasimar flashed a sweet smile at the bartender, fishing through the cleverly tailored pockets in the light, opaque sleeves of his current outfit and withdrawing the silvers for pay, placing them carefully on the far end of the table, easily in range of the barkeep.
That done, he turned back to the man beside him. “The meek may inherit the earth, but the bold get things done.“ He leaned closer, coy smile and honeysuckle perfume drawing near. “And I wouldn’t mind a bit of bold fun from you later.“
Iris rolled a 23 on Charisma
"Well...if the rest of you is as welcoming as your personality, I'd say we could be very bold later. But you've got to be honest lad, and I won't hold it against you; are we talking business or pleasure here?"
"Today? You're in luck. It's on the house."
"Well, in that case - why don't you scoot a little bit closer to me." the man said, slipping his hand around Iris's back and forcefully pulling the barstool next to him. "You can keep my lap warm during the performance if you'd like."
"I love people who get started immediately." Iris licked his lips, slipping easily off his barstool and onto the man's lap. He straddled the hips without even feigning interest in the performance on stage, body facing the grinning patron. His fingers found the curves of ears and jaw and he traced a teasing touch while the man took a swig of alcohol. "I'll give you a personal performance later, too, for being so accommodating," he whispered, lips next to the man's ruddy cheeks.
The inquisitor Ganth chose that exact moment to wander in, following the possibility of unrest into its very nest: the local tavern. Immediately, his eyes caught the almost transparent gilded outfit Iris was wearing, and the inquisitor frowned before he could catch himself. Then again, Iris was a courtesan. He was free to seek entertainment from anywhere and anyone, and it was definitely not any of Ganth's business. So he smoothed the frown away and made his way into the most crowded part of the tavern, casting his gaze around for any particularly interesting character.
Someone who wasn't garbed in far too tight sheer and silk, at least.
However, his search turned out to be fruitless. With little choice left, he went toward the bar and took a seat after ordering a drink for himself. Still, he found himself stealing glances at Iris and his...companion. On Iris's part, the glances went mostly unnoticed, occupied as he was with caressing the neck and shoulders of his current partner, hands dipping teasingly into the collar of the man's tunic while lips and tongue left small marks across the exposed shoulder and collar bone. For a second Iris’s eyes met Ganth’s and the courtesan regarded coolly the drink in Ganth’s hands. The Inquisitor’s Lady considered the whore “excess” but apparently the vice of imbibing was perfectly fine. It reeked of choice and convenience and a man who wasn’t as honest and principled as Iris had first thought. He looked away, returning to the sweaty scent of his current company.
Having had nothing else to do, Tomomi had decided to simply revisit the tavern, and perhaps drink something more conventional than the ghost drink she had before. It was delicious, but she did not think she could keep up that sort of expenditure for long, not before she had all those platinums anyways. Again, her mood slightly lifted at the thought of all that money for so simple a task.
Humming slightly to herself, she entered the tavern and sat down at the bar before realizing most were gawking at... a rather familiar figure, though wearing the most outrageous of outfits in a rather outrageous situation. This was what she was supposed to travel with?
"B-by the gods! Ha-" She started blushing a deep shade of red as she tried to calm her mind. "H-have you no shame!?"
It took a moment for Iris to realize the outburst was directed at him and even longer to care enough about it that he finally lifted his head from the man’s shoulders. Only to flash a brazen smile at Tomomi and run a tongue over his lips.
He returned to slow kisses and small marks soon enough, the woman’s reaction hardly new to him.
The man on the receiving end of the kisses gave a small chuckle, turning to face Iris. "You tease. Keep this up and I'll have to-" he started, slowly lifting the courtesan up onto the polished wood of the bar. He'd no sooner done as much than the barkeeper slid over. "Hey you two! Ass off the bar - I just cleaned that." he said in a slight authoritative tone, as the target of Iris's affections slowly set him back into his lap.
Meanwhile, the soft tune of the band started up; a rather lively piece that seemed to brighten the overall mood of the entire room.
Ganth simply coughed awkwardly into his mostly untouched drink, eyes darting between Iris and Tomomi. The lady's reaction was most certainly uncalled for, given their current location. Then again, it wasn't any of his business to intervene. Iris seemed to be taking care of himself well enough.
”Let me know if you’d like to leave early. Perhaps somewhere more private after the show, my lord,” Iris murmured into his customer’s ear, hands still sweet against rough skin as he kneaded the tension from the man’s torso in touches that alternated between flighty and firm.
"How can I turn down such an irresistible off-" The man started, interrupted before he could start standing from his barstool.
In the midst of the performance, a ragball-sized object smashed through one of the windows, scattering small pieces of glass across the unfortunate patrons along the wall. The curious object hit the ground and rolled for a moment, before two buzzing wings revealed its true nature and lifted it up into the air. The large wings were accompanied by a fairly large needle sticking out of the thing's face, and it seemed to bounce around in the air, searching. From the window, a second one followed in, also bouncing across through the tavern a few feet off the ground.
There was a single moment of confusion before the tavern erupted into panic; people immediately diving under tables, the musicians all dropped their instruments where they stood, and those that could flee out the door could. The possible exceptions to these were the three adventurers, the bartender, and the man currently impeded by being under Iris.
The bug that had crashed through the window immediately took the advantage, bearing down on one of the tavern guests that had frozen in surprise. Still sitting in his chair, eyes wide with shock as the remains of his spilled drink dripped off the table, the insectoid immediately went to work. Flying down, the bug drove it's proboscis into the soft part around the man's collarbone.
"Tch."
Almost immediately her hands dropped down to her weapons, but the first zipped by her and stuck its head into that man. Too late to prevent that one, and the others will surely take care of it. Tomomi could still prevent the other from attacking another innocent. Letting out a piercing whistle to attract its attention, she readied herself for the second bug's inevitable attack.
The second bug turned to face Tomomi, her shrill whistle apparently having its intended effect. Similar to the first bug, it swooped down at her, proboscis ready. However, in the middle of swooping, it seemed to pause for a split second; just enough to throw Tomomi off guard and allow the bug to sink its own needle into the same area, piercing through her soft skin. Tomomi would already feel some of the effects, as she experienced the indescribable sensation of her blood being siphoned away. Nearby, Ganth's eyes widened as he stood up, uncaring of the drink that he just knocked over. Reaching for the morningstar on his belt, he swung it down at the creature attacking Tomomi.
From its stationary position on Tomomi's shoulder, the bug was fairly easy to hit. With a great swing of his mace, Ganth crushed the bug, killing it immediately. The blow was enough to dislodge it from the samurai's shoulder, and it crumpled wetly to the ground, a mixture of insect blood and her own blood staining the spot on her armor where Ganth had squished it.
The last to respond, Iris had disentangled himself from the man beneath him and had finally turned to face the creatures. His first instinct had been to run, but that had luckily passed while he maneuvered off the man's lap. More importantly, there was music in the air and he wasn't sure if anyone had noticed it yet. He had heard the song first, before the sound of breaking glass signaled the start of chaos, an ethereal sort of instrument that he couldn't identify but music was as much a part of him as his bardic magic and where song was the medium, he could stand as the combatant. It wasn't his first idea, or even his second, but he had none of his weapons with him and at least the bugs seemed responsive to sound. Too responsive, actually, and their movements seemed synced to the lilting notes of that unseen musician. So he wondered if one magical song could clash with another.
He stood protectively in front of his companion, almost unknowingly. Then sang.
It was an entertainer's song, one of many that the brothel played, full of catchy refrains and upbeat rhythms meant to stir excitement in their guests, but nonetheless it was a song and in it he imbued as much supernatural force as he could muster.
There was a noticeable effect as Iris began to sing; namely that the unheard song grew louder, as if issuing a challenge. Where Iris's song grew in rhythm, the nearly imperceptible tune attempted to match. It went back and forth; a battle between teh courtesan and the unknown musician as the breathy tune rose above the din of the tavern to the point that everyone could hear it. The bug pulled its large proboscis out of the man's skin, blood trickling down his body as he slapped his hand over the wound and quickly ducked under the table. Like a snake to its charmer, it lazily bobbed towards Iris as he sang, wings fluttering to the tempo of the dueling artists. On his part, Iris looked increasingly disgusted as the bug neared.
When Iris's voice reached a crescendo, the other music ceased entirely, as if it had admitted defeat. The bug in the air seemed to spasm and circle around for a moment, seemingly confused.
Scrambling to pick up the nearest unoccupied bar stool, Iris swung it clumsily at the nearest airborne arthropod, making weak contact just as the creature moved midair. The impact was hardly sufficient, but at least knocked the bug several feet away.
Tomomi gave out a rather unsightly shriek as Ganth swung his mace uncomfortably near her face. Thankfully the bug and her armor combined protected her from having her shoulder blades crushed, but it still was an experience she'd rather not go through again anytime soon.
Cursing in her language, she turned towards the last bug, drawing her old trusty sword, before running towards the bug and attacking it, drawing a slash aimed towards it.
The slash landed, the finely folded steel of Tomomi's blade cutting almost effortlessly through the carapace of the creature. Two pieces of bug fell to the ground, a small portion of silvery wing fluttering through the air as the insect's bloody meal slowly oozed across the polished wooden flooring.
Bug #1 Rolled a 15 for Initiative Tomomi Rolled an 11 for Initiative Bug #2 Rolled a 9 for Initiative Ganth Rolled a 2 for Initiative Iris Rolled a 2 for Initiative
Bug #1 Rolled a 12 against Miron (Commoner), dealing 1 point of Constitution Damage Tomomi took a Defensive Action, raising her AC to 19 (+4) Bug #2 Rolled a 21 against Tomomi, dealing 1 point of Constitution Damage Ganth Rolled a 15 against Bug #2, dealing 7 points of bludgeoning damage and killing it. Iris Rolled a 26 on Perform and a 5 against Bug #1.
Bug #1 took no action. Tomomi Charged Bug #1, rolling a 19 to hit and dealing 10 points of slashing damage, killing it.
Silence fell over the tavern as people slowly started to emerge from their hiding places. The bartender rose from his position behind his bar, while the man Iris had been accompanying himself with hadn't moved at all; stunned even after the bard had squirmed off him.
"Hey, are you okay?" Iris asked, running his hands over the man's arms and shoulders to check for any bugs they might have missed. He looked shell-shocked and frankly Iris felt the same, but he at least was coping with it a bit better.
The man quickly composed himself, anxiously brushing the front of his shirt as he spoke. "Yeah. No, I'm perfectly fine. Just a little surprised, is all." His surprise quickly melded into a curious combination of admiration and curiosity, as he looked at the courtesan with inquisitive eyes. "What did you do just now? It was...enchanting."
”Some bardic magic. Nothing spectacular, but I saw one respond to the whistling. Thought it couldn’t hurt.” He sighed in relief as the physical search turned up no further bugs before leaning onto the man. ”Sorry, did that spoil your appetite?”
A quick glance at the wounded man surrounded by folks working to stem the arterial bleeding forced Iris’s hand. He raised an arm towards the general location of the small crowd as bright, sparkling magic danced over his fingers and palms, the spell forming and taking effect. White and gold lights like tiny stars danced towards the injury, coalescing around the wound until it was no longer visible before dissipating, leaving only healthy skin behind.
Iris turned back to his willing companion once the spell had finished its task. ”Do you still want to leave early...?“
"Well, the show is over, so I don't think it's leaving 'early' any more. I think we'd be leaving right on time." the man said, standing from his barstool. "Plus, someone should show you a little gratitude for what you've done." he said, wrapping a burly arm around Iris's petite waist.
”I don’t need much, and nothing of value,” Iris smiled, tracing fingers down the man’s arm as they walked towards the door. ”It’s enough gratitude that you’ll indulge me.”
Meanwhile, Ganth glanced over that the shattered glass, before quickly running outside, determined to catch the culprit before they could escape. However, there was no villain to pursuit; nothing but the darkness of the night waiting for him. Disappointed, the inquisitor took a few moments to inspect his surroundings, then went back inside the tavern.
Inside the tavern, things were slowly coming back to normal. Most of the patrons had crawled out of their hiding spots, the band was slowly picking up their instruments and gathering up the sheet music that had fluttered across the ground in their panic, and a few people were gathered around one half of the deceased insect, one person prodding it gently with their foot.
Tomomi however, opted to stay, going to the bartender, sparing only a glance at the rather risque bard, and the inquisitor. At the very least, she knew now the bard was more competent than they looked. "This happen often?" She asked the bartender, rubbing the spot on her shoulder where the bug bit her.
"Not like that, it hasn't. I've never seen the damned things be that aggressive. Certainly never seen 'em come through a glass window, neither." the bartender said, pulling a clean cloth from a space underneath the bar. "You want something for your shoulder, by the way? I ain't got nothing but rags and drink, but they can make do in a pinch."
She stared at the dead bugs for a while longer, before turning towards the bartender. "I'll be fine. What are those anyways? I've not seen anything like those yet in my travels so far."
"I don't know if they've got an official name, but we call 'em Stirges. Every now and then they'll blow in from the swamps, but they usually just satisfy themselves feeding on the livestock and float back from where they came."
Sighing, Tomomi grabbed a bar stool and sat down. "Don't suppose you have anything strong to drink? For those two as well — " she started to gesture towards Iris and Ganth, though the former seemed to have already left," — if they're so inclined, though I see that small one has already left.."
"Where are these swamps? What would these Stirges be doing all the way out here?"
"On the house." The bartender said, pouring from a bottle into a small glass; it was a fine whiskey, one of the finer options the local tavern had on tap. "There's a small swamp a few miles south of here, but I wouldn't recommend going there. Not very many footpaths, and there might be beasties about. Probably not safe if the stirges are acting like this." If he were going to add anything else, it was cut off by the inquisitor.
"Indeed." -Ganth concurred, finally lifting his gaze off the dead creature lying on the floor -"They aren't known to attack settlements. Something must have...drawn them out." -He frowned slightly at his own conclusion. It was too vague for his liking, still based mostly on guts feeling and intuition, instead of concrete evidence. Still, at least, he knew where he would heading next.
"I must depart." -Turning abruptly, the Inquisitor nodded a curt goodbye to the barkeep and Tomomi, before heading into the night.
"Thank you," she spoke to the bartender, giving only a nod towards the Inquisitor as he left. Downing a bit of the whiskey, she grimaced at its taste, before going back to finish it. It helped the pain somewhat. It was probably just a coincidence, the way these bugs came out here. Perhaps they were driven by hunger, or had simply wandered too far from their usual path. But, combined with the incident during the walk at the funeral, it felt rather... convenient? Odd? It was probably nothing, but she felt like she should investigate the swamps regardless. If there was nothing there, at the very least all she would have lost is some time in exchange for peace of mind.
"That was great." Tomomi spoke as she finished her drink. Rising up from the stool, she checked her weapons before heading out and waving farewell. "Better get some big sticks. Just in case more bugs come."
His companion had continued until well past nightfall, the man only relenting for the love of sleep before another day of hard labor. Iris had cleaned himself up and slipped away quietly, careful to leave the innkeeper with enough coin to pay both board and breakfast for his willing partner in the morning. He stumbled back to the estate, hips still aching and legs more unsteady than he would have liked. He didn't mind rough partners, but walking immediately after the act was becoming more and more of a bad idea. Surely he could have returned in the morning, but he hated parting ways with his bedfellows while they remained awake. For all that he watched people come and go, Iris had always hated partings. Even with the Violet Widow, he found the time to leave before his partners ever woke, sparing both of them the unpleasant formalities of a drunkard's morning regrets or cloying affections beyond the services rendered.
He was aware his clothes remained unfastened, that they remained on his shoulders by some miracle, but it was late and no one was about. Safe enough that he needn't care about appearances as he finally stumbled towards the estate entrance. A lone figure stood below the dim torches perched atop the main gate's pillars, and Iris stopped a safe distance away, squinting to discern the person though the armor soon identified the knight.
Before him was Ganth the Inquisitor, who had taken upon himself to stand guard in front of the mansion's gate. Even in the dead of the night, he stood tall, the dull glimmer of his breastplate took on an golden glow from the nearby torches. Piercing grey eyes stared off into the night, awake and alerted despite the bags that had began to form beneath. He noticed the courtesan soon enough, the man's clothing was hardly inconspicuous.
"You have returned." -Ganth nodded a greeting, once Iris had come into hearing range.
"...Inquisitor," Iris greeted with as much liveliness as he could muster. His voice was barely hoarse, just on the fringes, the byproduct of conspicuously loud and recent activities.
"It is late." -Grey eyes gave Iris a subtle onceover, but he did not comment on the courtesan's appearance.
"It is."
"You should head to bed." -Ganth lifted his mace and clamped it back on his belt -"I'll escort you to your chamber."
"...As you like, Inquisitor," Iris agreed, straightening his gait and moving past Ganth. With a stress-relieving activity behind him, he didn't feel as much ire as he did for the Inquisitor's lost first impression, but he remained wary all the same. The problem--as it had always been--was that he trusted his gut instinct too quickly, used to the brief durations of conversations and time spent together that was customary of one-offs and even regulars. He had only ever needed to guess how someone would behave for the night. It was much more difficult to discern how someone would act for much longer than that.
Ganth was silent afterward, shadowing Iris back to his assigned room. His only intention was to discuss his recent findings with someone more knowledgeable than him on the topic. Yet, he found his gaze lingering a bit too long on the courtesan's bare shoulders. Immediately, he rectified the situation by brushing past Iris and taking the lead, keeping the shorter man out of his field of vision entirely. It was a disadvantage, his training and experience screamed; he needed to keep his target in sight at all times. But he would much prefer to keep his sanity intact.
Upon arrival, Ganth stood aside for Iris to unlock the door, before following him inside, closing the door behind him.
There was momentary surprise on Iris's face as he heard the door click shut behind him, but the sound of armor still clinking clearly inside the room. He made no comment on it, instead curling up onto the bed and sighing, already missing the sensation of warmth near him and arms around him. Muscle memory had his fingers sliding into the embroidered silk stockings, carefully removing them from his legs as he readied for another sleepless night where his body had been primed for more activities, only to be left wanting.
"I don't wish to disturb your rest, Iris. But there is something we need discuss." -Ganth chose that exact moment to raise his voice, crossing his arms and leaning against the door.
"I figured that much at least, since you're clearly not here for anything else," Iris replied, slipping out of the light material that made up the top half of his outfit before deftly removing the flower-like sleeves. Naked now, he reclined on the bed in his favorite position, regarding Ganth coolly. "How can I be of service, Lord Inquisitor?"
Ganth cleared his throat, suddenly finding one of the decorative vases in the room fascinating.
"I saw you sing earlier. At the tavern. What for?"
"I heard music. And I know music," the courtesan answered, a small spark in his eyes. "The bugs were moving in sync. And I wondered if I could do the same."
"Were they...controlled?"
”They were.” He shifted on the bed, crossing and recrossing his bare legs.
Ganth fell silent once more, clearly concerned about the new information; that fact made obvious by the way his brows knitted together. It confirmed his suspicion. The attack was planned, filled with malevolent intents. But who was those Stirges for? Tomomi, Iris and himself was present at the time, so it was likely for them. Yet, stirges were simple critters, so perhaps this was just a warning? Or test? Both possibilities were equally disturbing.
Many things were still unclear, but Ganth was certain that he would need to find new leads, and fast.
"Say, was the music from a flute, by any chance?"
"No, not that I could tell. Ethereal, and it masked the instrument." He settled down into the bed, laying on his stomach with his head pillowed by slender forearms. "That's all I can provide, unfortunately."
"I'll leave you to it then." -Ganth picked up the hint easily enough -"Thank you for the information. I wish you a good night's rest."
With that, Ganth left quickly, the clattering of his armor soon faded after the door clicked shut once more.
Breathing out a disappointed breath, Iris closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come on its own, unbidden, while he replayed the more enjoyable events of the evening in his head. Ganth was his type, it was true, but there was no redeeming the Inquisitor's mentality and Iris didn't care enough to press further, especially not when bitten repeatedly by rejection. Twice shy, even he had his limits and while an insubstantial hope had followed Ganth into the room, it had faded just as quickly when the Inquisitor opened his mouth. All business. Of course. And the disappointment was almost as vivid as a slap to the face. He hummed a quiet tune to himself, an old children's song he liked hoping the cheery tune would drive the midnight thoughts away. It helped, vaguely, but more importantly by the time the supernaturally imbued song had faded away Iris had fallen fast asleep, tired enough to feel it but not enough to realize how ready he had been for rest.
The others would not miss her for long, nor would they really notice considering Tomomi herself wasn't going back to the estate to tell them where she was going. Making sure her weapons were still there and securely attached, she started on the hike towards the swamp.
Tomomi rolled a 9 for Survival check.
The swamp was three to four miles to the south, typically only a hour's walk if one could find the few footpaths that led towards the area. Unfortunately for Tomomi, she'd been following a deer trail for the last hour or so; despite stepping in a few mud pits she hadn't noticed (the dried mud nearly up to her knee on the left leg) and walking through more spiderwebs than she could count. At least the fallen trees and the rocky bluffs were no issue for her; her wings safely carrying her over those obstacles. Eventually, she had managed to enter a marshy clearing - a little deeper into the swamp than she probably would have liked to have been, but she had technically reached her destination.
Beyond the sixty feet or so that her natural vision allowed her to see in the dark, everything else was shrouded in only the faintest of moonlight. A few clouds passed overhead, further reducing the ambient light to near-darkness before they passed. Despite being night, the swamps were alive with noise; the clamorous sound of hundreds of insects all chirping at once, now that the cool night dew had brought them from their hiding spots.
Looking around at what she could see, her feet left her ground as she concentrated on flying, her small wings fluttering unconsciously under the trappings of her clothes. Straining her eyes to catch anything out of the ordinary, she started floating about the place.
Tomomi rolled a 12 for Perception check.
On a normal day, the swamp wasn't very lively or interesting - the occasional spot of quicksand being too high a cost for even the most curious of people. During the night, it was both not lively, and also dark, making spotting much of *anything* a difficult trial. From her airborne vantage point, there didn't seem to be very much to find down below. The only thing that stood out were the fireflies that danced across the clearing - every so often one would zip across the field at an alarming pace. They seemed...too fast almost, and there didn't seem to be any pattern.
Frowning, she flew down onto the clearing, walking towards the group of fireflies, one hand resting nonchalantly on her weapon.
In front of Tomomi, there was a small cluster of fireflies that had seemed to stop, floating and dancing around curiously. It was odd - they didn't seem to flash like normal fireflies did. Rather, they seemed to be a constant glow that just danced around. In fact, there didn't even appear to be an insect in the center. Moreso, the actual size of the orbs seemed to differ, a realization that was easier to distinguish now that she was closer.
Tomomi rolled a 3 on a Will Saving Throw.
For a moment, she was struck by an irrational horror, almost making a decision to just zip out of there asap. But instead, she shook her head, clearing out the fear before going in for a closer look. It looked... well, it looked like nothing she had ever seen before, but she had a slight idea of what it could be. It might be some sort of yuurei or just the souls of the dead, but she was neither an omyouji or a priestess, so she would have to find someone who can talk to the dead in this place. Scratching her head, she looked around for anything else that seemed off.
Besides the orbs, the swamp was pretty much as one would expect a swamp to be. Across the clearing, a stirge, full of blood from the evening's hunt, was on its way back to its nest. Nearby, a small tuft of grass parted to reveal a spider the size of a small dog: A giant crab spider, which Tomomi recognized as native to the area.
Scratching her head, Tomomi decided there wasn't anything else she could do in this area, and started the long hike back home.
The hike back wasn't too difficult; the Samurai actually managing to find one of the small footpaths back to Ravengro. With no threats of quicksand, mud pits, or the trail winding off into an unwanted direction, Tomomi would be back in town before midnight.
ℜ𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔬 | 14𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔣 ℜ𝔬𝔳𝔞, 4711 | 0000
After his talk with Iris, Ganth had decided to look around the nearby swamp, where the perpetrator could have gathered the Stirges. He headed out just a bit after midnight, fully armed and prepared for whatever dared step in his path.
Ganth rolled a 24 for Survival check.
Unlike Tomomi, Ganth had no difficulty locating one of the footpaths that directed him towards the marshes. In fact, the Inquisitor could likely spot her footprints as he followed the same path that she had taken back into town. As with his colleague before him, Ganth made the trip fairly quickly, only requiring about an hour's worth of hiking before making it to his destination. Without the benefit that her wings gave to hear, any other path would have been difficult. However, he soon found himself staring at the same area she had been observing: The swamps were alive with the sounds of insects gathered by the festering waters, while the moonlight above only faintly illuminated the area. There were no fireflies that sparkled in the darkness for Ganth, though there were shadows that flitted across the sky, likely stirges on a midnight prowl.
Ganth rolled a 30 for Perception check. Ganth rolled a 14 for Knowledge (Religion) check.
There was certainly a presence here, but almost like an after-image, or a memory. It was definitely the same presence that Ganth had felt back at the tavern, and it had a heavy influence over this area, but Ganth could instinctively discern just from the lingering effects that this was not where it was strongest. It didn't originate here, it had just been here at one point. What the 'entity' actually was, however, was a question that Ganth found himself unable to pin down exactly. His Inquisitor blood tingled, the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight. It was, without a doubt, unnatural; he could determine that much.
Puzzled by the emerging facts, Ganth decided to head further into the swamp, hoping to find something to piece all the scattered fragments of clues together.
Ganth rolled a 15 for Knowledge (Nature) check.
It was odd; even as Ganth explored deeper into the swamp, a few questions arose. The first and foremost being: 'Why stirges?' Sure, maybe insects were easier to control with magic, but there were so many better insects in these swamps to use. Even the large arachnids he saw scurry through the underbrush were better targets: the poison from a giant crab spider could sap a man's strength in under a minute, leaving him completely helpless. Sure, the stirges could drain someone of blood, but that really wasn't a viable option unless the target was restrained in some way. And for that matter, why attack a fully populated building at all? There had to be enough lone targets after dark. There was something special about both the scene and the stirges, Ganth knew it. Still, there was not much to be found here in the swamp. Nothing felt out of the ordinary, and as it was bleeding into the early hour of the morning, Ganth decided to leave. He had what he came for.
